The Yellow Chalk

I pushed past the porch gate and followed the cool morning pavement down the street toward the row of bright metal bicycle racks. Wedged in the seam between two concrete slabs was a thick stub of yellow sidewalk chalk. I stopped three quiet breaths away, watching a dry leaf tumble harmlessly past. Pacing softly forward, I pressed my front paw against the chalk's flat end. It rolled half an inch with a dry, pleasant rasp, leaving a pale yellow smudge across the grey stone before resting still beside my toes.