A Decisive Stamp

I climbed the side rungs of the gate counter stool to reach a forgotten red rubber stamper and an open paper ticket stub. Standing over the heavy stamper, I placed both hands firmly on the wooden knob and pressed straight down with my full body weight. The spring loaded mechanism compressed with an audible snap, leaving a crisp crimson imprint of 'APPROVED' squarely across the center of the paper. I inspected the alignment—clean, centered, and ready for transit.