Under a flickering streetlight, Stripe the paint-stripe machine rumbled to life. His roller dipped into the bucket and began a fresh white line across the dark asphalt. A red-and-white traffic cone rolled up and bumped into his fender.
Stripe rolled forward, painting long white stripes while the cone marked each one and spun happily. Every pass made the crosswalk grow, and the cone did a little dance at the end of each fresh line.
But when Stripe reached the other side of the street, his roller sputtered and stopped. The bucket was empty. The cone tipped sideways with a soft plastic clatter.
Click, click, click. Stripe dragged his dry roller across the last stretch — no paint came out. The cone righted himself and butted against the empty bucket with a tinny echo.
Stripe lowered his roller to the ground and stared at the half-finished crosswalk. Dawn was painting the sky pink at the edge of the street.
Stripe nudged the bucket toward the cone. The cone bumped it forward until it caught the warm glow of the streetlight.
Inside the bucket, the last frozen drops of orange paint crackled and melted — a tiny puddle of color at the bottom.
Stripe dipped his roller and painted one final thick stripe across the crosswalk — bright orange against the white. The cone rolled over it and left striped prints all the way down.
The sky turned gold above the rooftops as Stripe and the cone watched their finished crosswalk shine in the morning light.
The cone bumped Stripe's fender gently. Stripe rolled forward slowly with the cone following close behind.
The city was waking up. Windows opened, shutters creaked, and a cat stretched on a nearby wall. The crosswalk was ready.
Stripe and the cone rolled to the edge of the street and waited. The first pedestrians would find their way across safely, thanks to the fresh orange and white stripes shining in the sun.