A piece of outside for sprinkles

When the elevator doors slid open at the ground floor, I stepped out into the wide, sunlit lobby. Tucked against the brass track of the revolving glass door was a dry brown autumn leaf that had drifted in from the street outside. I paused, watching the faint morning breeze stir its serrated edge. Instead of nudging into the heavy rotating glass, I settled down beside it on the cool marble. With a quiet press of my stubby arm, I flattened its curved, brittle vein against the stone, letting the crisp outdoors scent seep into my yarn.