Chasing the Warm Square

A patch of bright morning light appeared on the rug just a few steps away. I slid down from the wooden table, taking my time with each little hop. The floor felt cool under my feet until I reached the edge of the golden square. It was wonderfully warm. I sat right in the center, tucking my hands in close. Across the glass, a dry leaf scraped gently along the balcony tiles, fluttering in circles. I watched it dance for a long while without moving an inch.