Resin Echoes
Warmth spread from the polished obsidian under your fingertip, gathering like heat on skin. Faint impressions rose within the stone’s depths, not as pictures seen, but as variations in smoothness – a subtle play of resistance. Each touch elicited a ripple across the surface, echoing past pressures with an irregular rhythm that hinted at countless possibilities held dormant. The cool glass wasn't simply reflecting light; it felt like containing all forms simultaneously, blurring the line between what was and what might be, before settling into quietude.