We have a sun, too, you know—a little different than yours and a little bit the same. It gives light and warmth, just like yours, but its color is more vibrant. It gets a little hotter than yours, but we are used to it.
I think that it’s because of our more vibrant sun that the colors here in our world are a bit more vibrant, too. And our wishes. Our wishes and our mysteries, too, are all turned up a notch.
I came here to probe one of those mysteries. I can tell you this about it:
There is a little, new-moon-colored stone I first encountered by a pool in the woods. Our woods. Yes, we have woods. We have quite a lot in common.
This stone shines with a light so pure that if you close your eyes, you can hear a single, soft, exquisite note. Otherwise, it’s really ordinary—small, translucent white and tumbled smooth—unless you touch it.
If you touch it, you will see the ocean. Your ocean, not ours.
It’s as if you are looking through someone else’s eyes at a cold, dark turquoise ocean on another world.