Rocks

When I was younger, probably around 3 or 4 years old, I went to a beach that was just piddled with rocks, pebbles and assorted candy wrappers. 

I remember picking one up that was a faint grey, very smooth, almost pellet-like little pebble that I wanted to bring home. This was one of the hundreds of rocks that laid before me. I picked it up, and to my surprise, it squished in between my fingers. I put it in my pocket and forgot all about it.

From then on, I had this belief that rocks were soft. Or that when they get scared, that’s when they put up their shields and become… unsquishable. 

The one that I picked up, wasn’t scared of me. That’s why I could squish it and mold it into whatever I wanted.

It was scientifically proven, by me, that rocks are soft. 

Also, as it turns out, it was actually just clay (playdoh perhaps?), not a rock. 

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