So there you are, minding your own business, when he grabs a sharp tool and comes after you.
Of course, you’d seen it before. Nobody spent much time around here without witnessing the like. You’re hanging out with your peeps, in comfortable digs, the next thing you know 10g gets hacked off into a baggie, crammed in a small box and flung out to who-knows-where.
They tell you it’s because they’ve asked for you. They want you. Really? 10g doesn’t sound like true desire, real passion. You can’t get to know each other that fast. The pressure is unreal – one shot, maybe two if you’re lucky. You might get to acclimitize, you might not. If you do, it’s probably with dozens of other cast-off shards in a box or a cupboard. They might not even pick you on purpose, when they do, they could just be reaching in and blindly grabbing. Nice to meet you too.
Water is the key, but they’ll have decided their favorite and you’ll have to deal with it. There’s no room to experiment when you’re only 10g. Climate, vessel, the mood they’re in – it’s a crapshoot. You’re only one in a series of unfair tryouts. Consider yourself exceedingly fortunate if they haven’t already got some half-baked idea about you before they’ve even begun. After all, they’ve tried dozens of your kind – once.
The worst – pray it doesn’t happen to you – is if, when the day has come, and you’re ready for it to be over, finally, they come and take 7 or 8g. Almost better to get tossed then, because otherwise they won’t notice you, won’t think about you, except to pick you up months or years later, when you’re dried up and so, so tired, only to look at you with sad eyes and put you down again.
I’m trying a new tea today. How about you?