Fixing the Tag

I slipped past the front gate and followed the curb down the block to check out the neighborhood. On the side of a green metal utility box, someone had slapped a thick vinyl sticker covered in bold, yellow graffiti lettering. The bottom corner was curling up and flapping loose. I hopped up onto the rough concrete base, settled my boots shoulder-width apart, and pressed the peeling edge firmly back against the warm metal using the pad of my thumb. The graphic locked flat and clean against the steel. I leaned back against the box with my arms relaxed, taking in the open street.