Empty

 

“It’s cool that you don’t say stupid shit like ‘How do you feel about that’ or whatever.” She picked up 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 when I was a child.”

“Look at you. All sentimental and shit. Who knew? You one of those losers who still lives with his daddy?”

“He died last year. You think it’s ugly?”

She looked up. “Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“You know why. If it’s really your father’s.”

“True story. Still. Why does that make a difference? It’s the same rock.”

“Ha. You got me. Fine. I’m the same person.”

“Are you?”

“What the hell. Isn’t that what you’re saying?”

“Actually,” he leaned back, “it’s not.”

She gripped the rock, “Whatever. Not playing.”

“It’s not a game. That rock is the same rock but it has changed in your eyes because of its background just as you have changed in your eyes because of what happened.”

“Tick-tock. Look at the clock. Only like 20 minutes until I get to walk out of here.”

“The question now becomes whether you are going to return that rock to the shelf because it means something to me, drop it wherever in here because it’s just a stupid, ugly little rock anyway, or pocket it because it has become precious.”

“Screw. You.”

“What would happen if I said you could take it?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she pointed at the door. “Me. Walking.”

“Okay. You can have the rock.”

“Already in my pocket.”

“On one condition,” he added. “You return it to me when you finish the program. When you learn your worth and treat yourself accordingly.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “I like this rock and now it’s mine because that’s not happening and, oh, look, time to walk. Later.”

“Not by my watch it’s not.”

She stood up. “You didn’t even look at your stupid watch.”

“Marcia. I want that rock back. Understand?”

She looked over her shoulder before shuffling into the waiting room.

 

~~~

 

He rubbed his eyes. “Anything in particular you’d like to talk about today, Jon?”

“Yeah. What’s with this empty shelf? Run out of money to buy stuff?” The boy laughed.

“Something like that.”

 

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.)