My parents had a unique set of stone tile on our back patio growing up. I remember sliding my fingertips across it. I can't really describe the texture. Stoney, undulating, rough, but that's not really it.
I spend a lot of mental energy fantasizing, with adjectives of who I am, what I do, and where, and how. But when I get these things, and pieces of the fantasy wake up in reality, it's like running my fingerstips along the stone tile.
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