A Crisp Price Sticker

I set out down the block early, my sneakers keeping a steady cadence along the morning sidewalk. Near the corner kiosk, an old wooden magazine stand was tilted out toward the curb. Right at the base of the rack, stuck halfway along a weathered groove, was an unpeeled roll of circular neon price labels. I hopped onto the low bottom strut, pausing to balance firmly on the rubber soles of my shoes. With both hands, I nudged the strip straight, peeling one small round green sticker free from the backing paper. It came away clean, perfectly circular against the rough grain.