The little stone sat on the table, taking in the drab room. She had been a plaything before, a marble.
Now, humanity was austere and busy – no time for frivolous games.
She missed the caress of a child’s hand, the banging echo of a crowded marbles pouch. She missed the thrill of rolling across packed earth in a race of precision.
When the little boy rushed in, she hoped, and when he threw his backpack into her, she was knocked to the floor. She zoomed then, unnoticed, through the still-open door and bounced down the steps.
She was free.
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