The Pink Square

A bright pink chalk square was drawn across the smooth concrete just beyond the front garden gate. I had slipped past the low latch, wobbling down the footpath to explore the quiet morning. Right at the border of the box rested a small, flat gray pebble. Leaning forward, I gave the stone a firm, buoyant nudge with my plush base. It skated forward with a raspy scrape, sliding neatly across the line to settle inside square number two. I tilted back, gathered my bounce, and leaped after it, landing with a soft thump right in the center. A tiny puff of chalk dust tickled my fleece, and I rested there, quietly admiring my turn.