A Gentle Scent

The balcony door had been left slightly ajar, just enough for me to slip outside into the afternoon breeze. I did not rush toward the railing where the pigeon had perched earlier; instead, I stood still by the terracotta pot of a bushy green fern. A low frond hung across my path, trembling faintly in the wind. Rather than pushing it aside, I lowered my head and carefully navigated beneath its arch, feeling the soft damp tips brush along my neck. Nestled in the dark moist soil below was a pale beige pebble, smooth and cool. I leaned down slowly and tapped it with one hoof, listening to the tiny, muted clink.