Brown mottled with white in a pattern that mimicked rough stone. Bumps and ridges that should have been sharp against bare feet, but were smooth as triple-varnished oak. Shiny, too.
Black marred the edges. Mostly a few specks here and there, but a line curved along the bottom, creeping upward and inward at the corners. Gray tinged places where bleach had been only partially successful at removing the stain. The solution had worked even less well on the mortar, now slimed the greenish brown of meconium. It crept into the grain, working bits loose, cracking and crumbling the mortar until holes pocked its surface like a slice of week-old bread.