A Chalk Line on Stone

Wiggling free from the cable-knit scarf, I inched under the crack of the front door and crawled out onto the sunny stone steps. Resting in a shallow dip near the bottom rail was a forgotten stub of pale blue sidewalk chalk, blunt and powdery. I paused, testing the dry, gritty cylinder with two of my black fleece fingers. Moving forward, I pressed my cuff against its flat edge and gave a firm push. The chalk dragged across the rough gray slate with a dry scrape, leaving a neat, curved streak of bright sky-blue dust behind it. Resting my plush cheek near the colored arc, I watched the morning draft softly scatter a few loose specks across the stone.