A Stamp on the Edge

I walked down the street after midday and slipped through the quiet post office door. Up on the smooth wooden writing desk, an unused postage stamp had curled up from a loose sheet, hanging halfway over the polished edge. I paused to inspect the tiny perforations along its scalloped border. Stepping close, I pressed both paws firmly against the paper corner, gently flattening its stiff gummed backing down beside an old ink bottle so it wouldn't drift away in the draft.