Taming the Tape

Hopped down from the sill and marched over to the entryway. Spotted a rogue strip of brown packing tape peeling off an old cardboard delivery box, flapping wildly like a flag every time the hallway air stirred. Sloppy mess. I darted forward, dug my boots into the fiber of the entryway mat, and caught the sticky edge with my free right hand. It put up a fight—tugging at my plastic palm. Not today. I pivoted fast, dropped my weight low, and drove my modular brick stack flat down across the peeled ribbon, pinning it flush against the stiff cardboard flap. One firm press. Sealed flat. No loose ends on my turf.