Wandering along Market St, a lady with flimsy white drapes around her paced slowly outside Utopia Cafe. She looked confused and weak, and seemed rather bedazzled. The tangible, striking non metallic mineral on her palm stared at her. They glittered in the afternoon sun. Some had been broken down into pieces. She counted, and counted again, and again. 1, 2, 3, 4, err.. 4, 7, 8, 8, help meThe same recurring number bothered her; she aint a fan of digits, forget about counting. Penniless at the same time, she sat down and begged.

What are these stones? she wondered, and shut her eyes. Unfamiliar bitter scenes appeared in mind. She remembered the profuse needles, the fluid running through her veins, her spine would ache every twenty-two minutes, and there were white figures everywhere, the room itself looked pretty white.She then sang to herself; a melody of Besame Mucho.

A clinging sound interrupted her thought. A quarter fell into her filthy can. She put away the stones and decided not to dispose them. She grabbed the quarter. An old Madame with Spider Lilies came by to her. Yuck! Not those flowers, run! She struggled her feet up and was about to flee when the Madame pulled out a five dollar note.

"Please, take this,"

She said nothing and reached out to the money. But withdrew them back.

"Here," the Madame said again, this time smiling, thrusting the money closer.

She felt safe.
Madame wouldn't hit me with needles and bitter fluids. She hummed the chorus of Besame Mucho and took away the money. At an instant, the stones in her pocket vibrated. Slowly at first, then became stronger, and soon, they were bouncing about within her pocket. They bounced like a maniac and exited from her pocket. The stones flew about them and were glowing. They looked like strobe lights with neon colors. Bewildered, she stared at the Madame, who was grinning by now.

"Those are gems, ma petite," the Madame exclaimed, wide-eyed.