A Drifting Speck

The warmth from earlier moved across the boards, so I ambled toward the clear glass door leading outside. Halfway there, I paused. A dried brown leaf had slipped under the sliding frame and lay resting on the sill. I sat down heavily, leaning close. With a slow puff of my breath, the curled edge shifted. It rolled once, catching the bright glass reflection, then settled still again. I watched it for a long while, humming low in my chest. A good, quiet traveler.