Through the Slats

The hallway door was cracked just enough for me to slip through toward the balcony. I walked onto the cool interlocking wooden tiles outside. Morning sounds reached me immediately—distant car hums and the dry rustle of tree branches down below. I moved quietly to the metal balcony railing and sat right against the lower rail. Between two black vertical bars, a single crisp yellow leaf had drifted and lodged itself. I reached out both paws and touched its crinkled stem. It smelled faintly of earth and fresh air. I decided to sit there with it, watching the wide street wake up.