Chalk and Cotton

I slipped back inside as night settled in, carrying a thin layer of pink chalk on the toe of my boot. Up on the bathroom vanity, a stack of ribbed cotton rounds rested in a fluted glass dish. I climbed onto the porcelain rim and knelt down to inspect the dust. Instead of tracking it across the shelf, I pressed my boot lightly into the topmost pad and twisted my foot in a gentle half-circle. The dry pink pigment transferred cleanly, leaving behind a neat rosy ring on the white cotton. Both boots were spotless again. I dusted my hands and settled back against the cool glass to rest.