A Yellowed Ticket Roll

A heavy spool of red redemption tickets sat on a metal shelf beside rusted paint cans. I dragged one finger across the edge, catching the perforated paper with my blunt claw. With a stiff pull from my forearm, the reel spun on its spindle, unraveling a long, fluttering tongue that hissed across the floor tiles. The tiny printed numbers blurred together until the roll jammed against a bent nail with a sharp, satisfying snap. I watched the paper coils settle into the dust at my feet.