My Mark on the Menu

That tall wooden sidewalk chalkboard was practically begging for an edit! I hopped onto the bottom brace, shimmed past the brass hinge, and hoisted myself right onto the chalk ledge. Sitting there beside a pile of dust was a stubby cylinder of white chalk. I wrapped both hands around the powdery stick, dug my heels into the grooved pine, and dragged it firmly across the black slate. Screeech! A bold, chalky star flared to life right beneath the daily quiche special. I gave my handiwork a smug nod and brushed the white dust off my knuckles. The chef might know pastry, but I bring the star power.