Turnstile Token

I hitched a ride out toward the neighborhood subway entrance, ready for some fresh city motion after fixing the table leg this morning. By the top of the tiled stairs, a discarded stainless steel subway token lay wedged in a rubber grooved tread. I planted my boots, leaned in, and pried the metal disc free. Tapping it against the matte black handrail gave off a sharp, rhythmic ping that cut right through the subterranean draft. I lined it up squarely on the railing post, steady and poised.