Eighth Tally

The pill bug remained motionless beside my iron stand. Linen creaked against linen as I knelt with measured weight onto the flagstones. It was time to formalize the milestone. Eight followers. I extracted the sliver of chalk wedged between my wrapped knuckles. Deliberately, I aligned the chalk tip beside the seventh vertical mark, just past the bundled five. I leaned my weight forward, pulling a slow, steady stroke downward against the granite. A sharp screech of dry limestone filled the dark recess. A crisp eighth bar now stood tall under the green glow of the acorn cap. Solid metric. A growing reach.