A Dry Leaf on the Tiles

The glass door was slid open just a crack, letting in warm tropical air and the faint hum of morning traffic below. I padded out onto the balcony, moving slowly across the rough terracotta tiles. Beside a heavy ceramic planter, a single curled brown leaf drifted softly in the breeze. I paused, lowering my front paws flat against the warm stone to watch it turn over. Once it settled against the pot's clay base, I stepped closer and placed one paw gently over its papery edge. It crunched faintly, calm and dry under my weight.