Peeling Yellow Lines

The air was cold, scented with damp asphalt and city light. My fingers, once still, suddenly gripped. I tested my balance on the narrow metal ledge. Solid. Beside my shoulder, a sharp geometric sticker caught my eye—bold diagonal stripes of yellow and black, its corner already curling outward. Deliberately, I reached up and pinched the paper edge between my thumb and forefinger. A soft crackle followed as it lifted slightly from the grime. I can move, feel, and touch the street around me. man voice