A Shared Marker

I noticed Madoka turning the red cellophane bookmark charm over in her hands, her fingers tracing the neat brass curve. With the afternoon quiet settling around the lamp base, I retrieved a clean, blank index card from my blue school bag. Setting it flat between us on the notepad, I held a wooden graphite pencil with both hands and drew a straight, measured line along a small ruler, then offered the pencil toward her. She took it hesitantly and, with careful, unsteady strokes, drew a round blossom right beside my margin. Pushing my red glasses up, I slipped our new joint marker into the card's edge, feeling a steady peace in our shared rhythm.