Hieroglyphic

She ran her fingers lightly over the picture-words carved into the wall. No one saw her, because she was little. No one saw her, because no one ever saw her. No one cared.

She moved quietly like a mouse and waited for everyone to turn the corner before taking out her paper and blue crayon. She peeled the label wrapper from the crayon as if it were the outer shell of a shrimp, and then she placed the blank white sheet over a random spot on the wall. Lightly at first, she rubbed the the crayon back and forth across the paper, just like she'd been taught on the school field trip to the cemetery. She pressed a little harder to capture some of the finer details of the images, and when she was satisfied, she pulled back to admire her work.

"Gracie!" her mother yelped. "No touching!"

Her mother grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her away. Gracie held on tight to the paper, but the crayon fell to the floor. She watched as it grew smaller and smaller in her vision, until she was so far away that it blending in with the dust and the shadows. Then they turned the corner and Gracie had to leave behind the ancient tomb. But she beamed at her paper. Maybe she would never come back to this place, but she had a piece of it, and it had a piece of her.