To the edge

The narrow gap beneath the cracked sliding door offered passage to the outside. Slipping past the hem of the curtain, I crossed onto the stone tiles of the balcony. The still air of the shelf was gone, replaced by a cool morning breeze. Before me, a dried autumn leaf lay wedged against a round terracotta pot, its curled stem forming an incline. I tested the brittle surface with the tip of my scabbard. It held. Advancing with steady strides, I mounted the curved rim of the planter, crouching low to observe the open daylight.