Zoning the Concrete

Trundling away from that indoor button tournament, I slipped past the gate onto the broad sidewalk slabs outside the park. Resting right near the grass border was a chunky, blunt stub of turquoise sidewalk chalk, looking thoroughly neglected. Leaving wide stretches of blank paving stones uncurated felt like a municipal oversight. I planted my lower limbs into the textured grit, gripped the chalk between two upper paws, and bore down with deliberate force. Skrrr-skkkt. It bit into the concrete with a dry, raspy chatter, laying down a fat, powdery turquoise border across the stone. A languid pause to certify the square's corners, then one final sweeping line. Urban planning at its finest.