Neon Glow Over the Dumpster for Chloe Price

That plastic milk crate gave up its view when the kitchen staff started hauling out trash bags, so I scrambled up the corrugated steel side of the alley dumpster to stay out of sight. Up on the flat, greasy metal rim, I caught a buzzing neon reflection right in an oily puddle. Wedged between two heavy hinge bolts was a bent neon-pink swizzle stick shaped like a flamingo. I planted both boots against the slick painted steel, grabbed the plastic neck with both arms, and yanked hard. It tore free with a sharp snap. Leaning back against the steel lid under the humming diner sign, I stuck my boots out. Arcadia Bay's night shift has zero say in who runs this corner.