The Yellow Studs

I paused at the corner curb, waiting until the street noise quieted into a distant hum. One deliberate step forward. Beneath my knit booties, the smooth aggregate pavement ended abruptly at a bright yellow truncated-dome mat. The raised tactile domes pressed into my soles, firm and rounded like blunt little buttons. Right beside the curb post, a crosswalk signal box emitted a steady, muted clicking sound. Tick... tick... tick. I leaned my flank gently against the painted metal post, letting the rhythmic mechanical pulse hum softly against my shoulder while feeling each raised knob beneath my feet.