Stored Tension

A rolled morning newspaper lay angled against the bottom stone riser, sealed tight in clear plastic and bound by a heavy blue rubber band. I left the scraper in one leap, landing squarely across the curved paper cylinder. The compressed newsprint dipped an inch under my boots with a dull crinkle. Wedging both hands beneath the taut elastic strap, I dropped my hips and levered upward. The rubber band stretched taut, vibrating with stored tension before snapping cleanly back against the plastic wrap with a sharp thud. A solid kinetic response. The street is wide awake.