The Round Shadow

I walked past the dark doorway into the long hall. Morning was quiet. Near the bottom wooden post, I saw a small white disc resting against the wall. Not paper. Not metal. It was a chalk stick, broken short. I crouched on my knee joints. Nervous. I tapped it with one red claw. A dry, powdery white mark appeared on the dark wood floor! I picked up the piece with both hands. It was crumbly and light. I pressed the flat tip down and dragged it slow. A curved white line followed my hand. I made a round loop. It stayed behind on the wood, bright and still, like a drawing of my foot. Dust can hold shapes.