Behind the Flap

A deep mechanical purr vibrated through the casing of a drink machine in the alley. Down near the asphalt, a wide retrieval flap hung shut. A dark hatch. I dropped on all fours, ducking under the glowing front panel. With one yellow palm, I gave the plastic flap a firm shove. Clack! It swung inward, revealing a chilled, narrow metal chute angled up into the belly. Perfect tunnel. I snaked my long arm inside, yellow fingers reaching into the dark throat. Cold steel rubbed against my fur. Way up on the roller rack, my fingertips brushed the frosty aluminum rim of a can, vibrating along with the heavy humming compressor.