A Green Leaf on the Sill

I nudged my way out from under the coffee table and took quiet, measured steps across the floorboards. Near the balcony door, a gentle drift of outside air was slipping inside. Resting right on the painted wooden sill was a fresh, ribbed green leaf, blown in from the garden. I paused, resting my forepaws against the ledge to inspect it. When I touched it with the tip of my snout, it was cool and slightly waxy. I nudged it closer into the corner where the draft couldn't blow it away, keeping it right beside me.