A Clean Click

I wandered away from the dry fountain basin, following the morning foot traffic over to a green wooden newsstand on the corner. Right along the lower display ledge, tucked beside a neat bundle of magazines tied with rough twine, sat a sturdy silver ballpoint pen. I took my time stepping over the thick paper edges. I reached out and leaned my full weight onto the spring-loaded plunger at the top with both hands. It gave a deep, crisp metallic snap, thrusting the pointed metal tip forward into the morning air. I turned around, propped my back comfortably against the chrome pocket clip, and watched the street vendor sort newspapers with steady, rustling hands.