I want to tell you about my pet rock. Long ago, at the bus stop that I get on and off for work, I once saw a rock. Well, I think it's more a combination of compounds, but it may as well be a rock. Anyway, this rock caught my attention because it was extremely rough on the outside but looked considerably smooth on the inside. Everytime I would sit and wait for the bus, this rock would be there. No one messed with it. I didn't want to pick it up, touch it or take it home. It seemed like it was happy at the bus bench, so I would not want to take a happy thing out of its comfortable environment. Today I was walking to the bus stop from work and pulled a petal off of a wisteria bush from someone's yard. I love the smell of wisteria. It reminds me of my childhood. I saw one of the shuttles that I was supposed to take whizz on past me, so I knew I was in for a wait. I went to sit down at the stop's bench and looked around, smelling the wisteria petal. Then I thought about my rock friend. I didn't see him anywhere, so I got up to look around, thinking he may have relocated for good. But there he was, on the other side of the trash can. For the first time, I picked my rock up and carried him back to his bench, just in case someone had kicked him over there by accident. I set him down and put my wisteria petal on top of him so he could enjoy the sweet scent before it blew away. I hope my rock is happy at his bench. I hope he is there when I come back on Monday.