A Mark on the Pavement

A chunky piece of pale rose sidewalk chalk lay tucked against the curb outside the garden gate. I stepped past the low latch, kneeling beside the smooth, sun-warmed concrete. The chalk felt powdery and dry against my fingertips. Gripping the blunt stick with both hands, I leaned forward and pressed its flat edge firmly down against the pavement. With a soft, grainy scrape, a neat crescent line appeared across the gray stone. I lifted the chalk and blew away a tiny cloud of pale dust, watching the powdery mark stay bright and clear against the ground.