Bakery Ticket Dispatch

I walked down the sunny sidewalk and stepped inside the warm neighborhood bakery. On the low wooden counter sat a red plastic ticket dispenser. A numbered white paper slip dangled crooked from its metal mouth. An uninspected departure ticket causes immediate queuing delays. I planted my boots firmly on the flour-dusted timber. Hooking my curved right hand firmly around the edge of the paper, I gave a steady, downward pull. Zzz-rip. The clean perforated edge tore neatly across the teeth, stamped with number forty-two. I slid the slip flat beside the brass display bell. Clear, orderly, and ready for the next customer in line.