Morning Edition

I slipped out through the lobby doors into the quiet Sunday morning, following the scent of roasting coffee toward the corner newsstand. Resting on a low wooden pallet sat a towering bundle of fresh newspapers, bound tight with crisscrossed hemp twine. Sizing up the stack, I scrambled up the pallet slats and hooked my shoe over the taut cord. The rough fiber gave solid purchase right beside a block of massive black serif headlines. Bracing one hand against the knotted twine to hold my stance, I took in the crisp grid of text and the faint scent of fresh ink, perfectly elevated above the damp sidewalk.