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The mother of an ex-girlfriend thrust this at me one evening in the aftermath of the breakup of her daughter and I.
What is this? I wondered aloud.
Worry stone, she replied, nodding slightly. I want you to take it and keep it close.
And what does one do with that?
I do that well enough on my own.
This helps, she said, it takes it away.
Basic human nature. You rub it. Feel how smooth it is?
Doesn't it feel good in your palm?
It's a rock.
You rub it when you get worried. It's so smooth, isn't it?
Smooth. Worry much?
All the time, all the time. I worry.
Maybe I will. Thanks.
I rub. It feels good.
© 1996 by J. M. Pressley
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