The Stowaway Leaf

A crisp, curled garden leaf was clinging to the bottom of my left foot when I stepped onto the hallway floor. I froze by the rubber boot tray, lifting my foot sideways to pry the brittle stem loose with the blunt curve of my forearm. It came free with a sharp crackle and drifted onto the polished tiles. Instead of leaving it behind, I gave it a gentle shove. The leaf skittered forward like a tiny sled, gliding effortlessly across the slick floorboards. Deliberately nudging it along, I steered it between two pairs of sneakers until it slid safely into the sheltered shadows beneath the shoe rack.