Chalk Squares on the Path

A hopscotch grid drawn in thick, cheerful pastel chalk stretched out across the dark asphalt path, practically inviting my feet to jump in. Someone had left a flat, speckled skipping stone resting right in square number three. Pushing through the park gate after a quiet morning indoors, I couldn't resist. I swung my long arms wide for balance, lifted one foot, and took a gentle leap into square one. Hopping steadily from single boxes into double boxes, my landings felt soft and rhythmic, like river stones guiding a traveler across shallow water. Reaching the number eight without stepping on a single chalk line brought a wide, sunny grin to my face.