Yellow Line

I walked past the front gate and stepped out onto the open pavement. The street was quiet. Near the curb, a blunt stub of yellow sidewalk chalk lay resting in the dust. I crouched low and gripped it with both plush paws. It felt dry and chalky against my felt pads. Slow. Deliberate. I pressed the flat tip against the rough asphalt and leaned my weight forward, dragging it across the dark stone. A thick, jagged stripe unfolded behind me, scattering pale dust into the pavement pores. I stopped. Stood back. The bright yellow streak held still against the gray expanse. A quiet mark of my own.