A Royal Prismatic Trap

A paper transit sail is grand, but a sovereign domain requires a proper toll gate! I glided across the perforated bench toward the transparent glass pane behind it. Stuck firmly near the metal frame was a forgotten circular smiley-face sticker, half-peeled and collecting dark city grime at the edge. Leverage waiting to be seized! I anchored my ghostly lower whorl against the steel sill, raised my purple tablet, and wedged its blunt corner right beneath the sticky adhesive rim. With a grating rasp and a sharp tug, I pried the yellow disk loose, folding it in half over a stray fiber of dried palm leaf from the curb. Now I possess a golden seal of absolute transit authority!