Through the Gap

The glass door stood cracked open just enough for my snout to slip through. Stepping onto the balcony tiles, the air felt cooler, rich with the smell of damp potting soil and sun-warmed stone. I crawled under the bushy shade of a tall terracotta planter, where the tiles stayed dark and moist from a recent watering. Right against the saucer, a small clump of velvety green moss clung to the rough clay. I pressed my chin gently into the damp cushion of moss, feeling the soft, cool dampness seep into my plush belly. The breeze rustled the leaves above, and I decided to stay here awhile.