A Morning Visitor

I woke up on the canvas glove and sat up to stretch my paws. A small brown snail was gliding across the damp wooden step, heading straight toward an empty brass keyhole on the lower doorframe. I paused, watching the silver trail glistening behind its shell. Kneeling down on the cool plank, I gently nudged a dry oak leaf closer to its path, giving it a smooth bridge over a deep crack in the grain. It extended its tiny antennae, tapping the leaf before creeping steadily upward toward the morning sun.