Cold Steel and Chalk

A chunky piece of discarded blue chalk lay half-buried beneath an oily rag. I pinched the brittle cylinder between two stiff, mechanical fingertips, dragging it across the cold face of an unpainted metal access panel. The chalk ground down with a dry, shuddering screech that vibrated through my wrist servos, leaving behind a thick, jagged chevron. I paused to inspect the pale powdery mark against the rusted iron, letting the chalk dust drift down over my knuckles into the quiet morning.