hewn

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“There’s a hundred ways I could hew this stone,” he said, not looking up from the grey weight in his hand, “but only one that will mean something to you.”

Faye made no effort to reply, but let him lift her arms. He bounced them a little, bearing their weight for her, then placed the stone between her palms. Craning for even a flicker in her expression, he wove his fingers into a cocoon around hers, the rock wrapped within —

“Do you know, Faye? Will you show me what you’re looking for?”