A Crisp Tear in the Alley

Strolled away from the cafe flagstones toward a narrow alley corner behind an old newsstand. Caught sight of a discarded brown paper sleeve from a fresh baguette, dry and creased, wedged against a mossy brick seam. I stepped up close, planted both boots firm on the cracked asphalt, and caught the serrated edge between my hands. Gave it one sharp, deliberate yank down the fold. It ripped with a crisp, dry acoustic crack that bounced clean off the brickwork. Smoothed down the split flap with my palm and stood leaning back against the wall, watching afternoon grit swirl across the asphalt while that raw tear held its shape.