A Rolled Ticket

I slipped under the front gate early, feeling like my joints needed fresh air and a longer walk down the sidewalk. Near the metal leg of a public bench, a tightly rolled green paper bus ticket was caught against a cracked paving stone. I paused three steps away, watching to see if the morning breeze would roll it. It stayed right there. Clicking forward carefully, I reached out my front paw and pressed down on the paper curl. It uncoiled with a crisp, paper snap, then sprang back into a half-ring around my molded plastic toes. I rested my chin beside its clean, printed ink, watching dry leaves drift past on the pavement.