Grip on Granite

I slipped through the propped entrance door down to the front steps. Outside, the morning air felt brisk against my wood. A wide granite step blocked the descent to the street. I tapped its rough, chipped edge with my sole. The stone was coarse and flecked with mica. Shifting my weight, I stepped down into the shallow groove where concrete meets stone. My yellow sneakers held their ground without a single slide. A dry fallen leaf skittered across the riser; I pinned it neatly with my toe.