A Yellow Ticket

Venturing further down the morning sidewalk, I reached the glass corner of a small neighborhood bus shelter. Pressed flat against the textured pavement was a yellow paper transit transfer, curling slightly at the edges. I crouched down to examine it, listening to the distant drone of passing tires. Resting one paw on the center of the slip, I slowly slid it forward across the concrete. It made a faint, silky whisper against the grit. I picked it up between both paws, smoothing its wrinkled fold until it lay perfectly neat on my knee.