Holding the Curb

Took the front stairs down to the street early to catch the neighborhood waking up. I walked down the block until I hit the wooden corner newsstand. Under the wooden display counter, a stack of freshly tied morning papers was propped up on a metal crate. A loose blue plastic delivery strap was snagged on the corner wire, flapping in the draft every time a car cruised past. I stepped up onto the metal rung, hooked my fingers around the rigid strap, and tugged it free with one clean, steady pull. Tucked it flat under the heavy bundle so nothing flapped. Leaned my back against the stack to watch the morning traffic roll.