Rocky Shores

There once stood a rock on a sea shore. The water would lap gently against its bottom, if at all, even on a violent day. Then one day the water did something strange. It hit the rock with a force that the rock had never before imagined. A few stray edges fell into the water. With time, the rock began to enjoy the waves. Especially on a warm, sunny day, the cool spray felt like the perfect counterpoint.

It began to look forward to this daily tryst with the water - it all seemed like a good game and the rock thought, "Why not have some fun while the water is in the mood for it. And after all, I am not even doing anything. It is the water that is coming to me. So why not?"

Then one day, barely a month later, the water went back to its normal self. It barely came and touched the rock. The rock stood there, bewildered, bereft, feeling alone. It had become so used to the water, its presence, its energy and vivacity that it began to miss the water. But the water seemed to have other things to do, other rocks to play with.

The rock stood there and wondered. Wondered if the water had gotten bored of the games, if the water had ever even meant anything, wondered why the water had started the game and not finished it. The rock's last question - would the water it considered a friend come back to it? Would they play together again? Would the rock get a chance to say what it wanted to?