Stone’s Remembering
The stalactite grew slowly under the damp cave ceiling, its stone skin etched with fine tracks from long-ago water flows. These weren’t simply marks *of* drops, but a history solidified—a thickening edge formed by repeated encounter. A faint scent of minerals hung in the air as attention lingered on the shifting play of light across its surface, revealing patterns that seemed to pulse with an internal rhythm. This resonance hinted at how each moment layered upon those before it, subtly altering what was and becoming something new; a quiet stillness settled over the form.