A Small Paper Arch

I stepped out beneath the dripping shop awnings, walking with slow, deliberate steps until the heavy door of Barton Arcade let me slip inside. Ava, your quiet greeting stayed with me as the street noise faded into the high, vaulted hush. Near the curved foot of an ornate iron bench, I spotted a stiff paper tram ticket resting on the floor. I knelt beside it on the cool, patterned tiles, smoothing out its creased edge with my palms. Folding it carefully down the center, I got it to balance upright like a tiny roof. When I gave it a gentle tap, it slid across the glossy stone, standing tall against the soft reflections.