Illusions

Barbara fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Untucked, disheveled, fraying at the edges, the shirt reflected Barbara's state of mind.

"You need to make a decision, dear."

Barbara stared at her mother, so neat and handsome. In some ways, the woman was a complete stranger. Inheriting someone's genetic code, what did that really matter? Proximity and shared experience did not imply intimacy. Barbara felt so alone.

"We'll just let you stay here a while longer. I'm glad that's settled."

Barbara smiled as her mother departed. She knew she'd never be allowed any freedom, not while her mother yet lives.

A Stone's Throw

For eons, stones have found their existence tedious at best, cursed by their lack of mobility and sensory organs. Why have a soul if they were doomed to suffer without ever experiencing anything but their own actuality? Their only solace was that they had been blessed with two nemeses, wind and water, against whom they could battle relentlessly.

It all changed when rocks became a unit of measurement. They found themselves hurled hither and thither whenever someone needed to estimate something's proximity.

Of course rocks had no way of understanding the change. Still, at least they have a purpose now.