They walked down the hallway to that locked room. The house went unsually quiet an dit was like the hum of traffic was not to be had. A strange atmosphere indeed. Bette didn’t
notice any of it. what she noted was the strength of her pulse, the beat of it pounded her neck till Bette was sure Angelica could see her neck veins throbbing. Bette held the key in
her hands and Angelica held onto her shirt, a habit she hadn’t done since she was five years old. Bette inserted the key and turned, the door creaked like an old rocking chair and it
opened to reveal the contents inside. Just a pile, not too big not too small, in the middle of a completely bare room with no windows. The lights were not on and Bette didn’t put them
on, somehow it didn’t seem right to do that. Angelica gulped but took a step forward, letting go of her mommy’s shirt. Bette followed  until both were standing around the pile and
looking down. Then Angelica go ton her knees and bawled, the tears streamed down her face and she cringed like every one was painful, every tear hurting. Angelica leaned forward
and held the stuff with her arms wide open, crying crying and crying. Bette felt her glands hurt, and soon it was too much…she knelt until she was beside her daughter, and instead of holding onto
the pile she held onto Angelica. And she cried, she cried for Tina for Angelica for the pain the grief the hurt the anger at the world for creating such a thing as sadness.l Eventually both
dried u. Bette felt her eyes swell and hoped a mirror was not near by. Angelica sniffled, hugging her mom tight like she didn’t want to let go. Bette felt love so strong she thought Angelica
would kill her with the feeling. But both ended up alive….and the room was quiet, a bit dusty. Angelica reached into the pile and picked up an object, a little smooth stone that was shaped
to fit the palm. angelica smiled into this and looked at Bette…..”what’s the story behind this, why did mom like it?”  There were some things Bette was never going to tell Angelica, some
things that were meant only for Bette and Tina, stories that were personal. But this was not one of them, the story of Tina’s stone and how she found it was one Bette could tell Angie. So
she crossed her legs and touched the stone, touched her daughter…and opened her mouth to tell the tale.