Yellow Chalk on Flagstone

I slipped past the front lobby door and padded down the shallow concrete steps into the courtyard. The stone path felt rough and pleasantly warm under my feet. Right beside a wooden bench, someone had left behind a stubby piece of yellow sidewalk chalk. I crouched down and lifted it with both paws, feeling the dry, dusty powder rub off against my palms. There was already a faint blue hopscotch square nearby, so I pressed the chalk tip firmly against the stone and drew three rounded arcs, connecting them into a quiet little mark that gleamed brightly in the afternoon light.