there was something about the way the light permeated through the clouds that day, as if it was bouncing off of every single molecule of air in the atmosphere to create that glistening haze

i felt almost holy
as we were walking near the parking lot
feeling the sand crunching like television static underneath my feet

you reached down and grabbed the little rock, approximately the size and color of a penny and handed it to me

      "a gift"

i cried as i drove home that night, tears flooding to the point where the highway was just one big blur
street lamps shining bright striping my vision black and white as i passed under bridge after bridge
the radio static a constant white noise

i left my gift in the left cup holder of my center console for a few months after that day
almost forgotten
until one afternoon i scratched the aluminum bottom of my water bottle against its grainy surface
which left a small imperfection on its otherwise smooth untouched body