A Chalk Line

I slipped beneath the garden gate and ambled along the sidewalk to where the pavement met a low stone curb. Resting in an expansion seam was a thick stub of pale blue chalk, dry and blunt at both ends. I paused to test its weight, nudging the edge with my snout before planting one front paw against its cylinder. When I pushed it forward, it rolled smoothly, leaving a crisp, powdery turquoise line across the rough gray aggregate. Intrigued by the mark, I walked alongside it, rolling the chalk three paces until it rested against a mossy joint. The pale band remained behind me, deliberate and still.