The Rock

 

“It’s cool that you don’t say stupid shit like ‘How do you feel about that’ or whatever.” She grabbed a grey rock from its shelf and examined it.

“Well,” he swiveled in his chair, “glad to hear that. But I do need you to talk to me.”

She turned the rock over in her hand, “Okay. I’ll talk. You have this like professional office with expensive leather couches and shit then there’s this ugly, little rock. Seems out of place.”

“It’s special.”

“Why?”

“My father gave it to me. He died last year. You think it’s ugly?”

“Not anymore.”

 

 

May 13 Prompt: Connection (Write a story that shows a hard place and a connection)

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

(This flash seeks a connection for this month’s 1000Speak theme. Read other posts on connecting here.)