A Crisp Leaf

I waddled down the hallway until I reached the front door. Resting against the ribbed border of the rubber mat was a curled brown leaf, slipped in from outside. I stopped two inches away, lowering my head to inspect the brittle ridges of its veins. Carefully, I nudged the tip of my beak under the dried edge. It didn't roll. Instead, a sharp, paper-like crunch snapped beneath my weight. The sudden crackle broke the hallway silence. I stayed right there, perfectly still, feeling the tiny dry vibration hum against my beak.