If I were a stone, I would be a small stone, somewhere on a city street, where river stones are not usually found.
I can imagine the way my curves would have been formed by slipping water. I can imagine the water soaking me so thoroughly that I might seem to choke of thirst when dried in the air. I can imagine the company of other stones, blunt resistant shoulders rubbing up against mine.
It would not be a kid who would pick me up. It would be a woman with a jacket in the company of other people, who would reach down and grasp me idly as she talked, and would then not let me go.
When she took me home she would place me in the middle of a table, open to the light.
One day she would throw me out onto the path and cry. Maybe for no reason.
A little later, she would think of going out and finding me. Instead she would leave me there… Before she finished crying, and calmed down, before she forgot me, she would think: The cities spread over the land.
Let the land seep into the city.
A/N: just a short li'l story for a 200 words compy. The other challenge I wrote it for was: "Start a story with the word 'if'." It's fun, try it.