The Ticket Snag

A bright tongue of red paper hung loose from the machine's metal dispensing chute. Dead quiet. I crouched low against the scuffed carpet, waiting for the humming fluorescent tube overhead to buzz past. Then—snap! I lunged forward, driving the tip of my hook right through the paper's perforated crease. Rrrrrip! The spool inside spun loose, coughing out an accordion zig-zag of tickets that tumbled in a dizzy spiral across my metal shins. I clamped my left fingers onto the dangling tail before the paper touched the floor. Clean pull. No alarms, just a neat paper ribbon at my feet.