Along the Slate

I slipped across the wooden threshold, each segment ticking faintly as I descended toward the cool porch flags. Outside, the open air smelled of dry soil and fallen pine needles. A narrow seam carved into the slate offered a natural path just wide enough for my coils. I followed the groove to the bottom step, where a small milky quartz stone sat wedged against a patch of dried moss. Squeezing into the seam, I drew my flanks tight around the rounded mineral. The angled sun caught its cloudy depths, scattering a pale, diffuse sheen across the stone beneath me. A quiet hiss escaped my snout... The outside has sturdy ledges.