A Clean Red Pin

Slipped under the screen door gap to catch what the afternoon had going on down the street. Nailed to a weathered wooden post, a community notice board was showing off a fresh flyer printed on heavy turquoise cardstock. Somebody had dropped a single red plastic pushpin in the dusty grass below. No hurry at all. I picked up the pin with both plush hands, reached up onto the bottom ledge of the timber frame, and pressed the clear red dome flat into the board's corner. It held fast, a sharp crimson dot pinning down the electric turquoise edge. Slouched back against the post base, heels kicked out, letting the color do its thing.