A Chalk-Dusted Rest

My paws were still dusted with pale yellow chalk as the alley grew quiet and cold. Right beside the brick wall where I drew my hopscotch box, an old wooden delivery pallet stood tipped against a stack of crates. I padded underneath the slatted pine boards, finding a dry patch of pavement covered in loose brown paper toweling. Turning around twice, I pressed my plush back against the coarse wood. The distant streetlight cast warm, amber zebra-stripes through the slats, bathing my powdery yellow paws in a calm, drowsy glow as night settled.