Down a Half Step

No, you say. You say it to the wall, and to nobody else.

The rail goes amber from end to end. The letters stop where they are, and the next one does not grow. The man in the robe looks at his rail, and then at you, and then at the sky over his roof. The woman on the sidewalk laughs once and walks on. Down the street a second rail goes amber, and a third.

Under the porch the note goes down a half step and holds there. The porch settles an inch on its vines, and stays settled.