Three Rocks

She took a deep, deliberate breath, then coughed as she hung up the phone. Therapy sessions hadn’t been working the way they used to. Maybe it was time for a new therapist, she thought. She sat for a few minutes, contemplating her next move—yoga or an old movie were the first options that came to mind. She coughed again, then sneezed, her sandy brown hair bouncing forward. A general malaise settled over her, and she knew she was at the early, critical point of an illness.

Damn, I know I’m out of vitamin C and zinc tablets, she thought.

It was close enough to lunchtime that she could stop and grab a bite to eat, and with the extra walking, she could justify skipping yoga. She pulled on her navy blue leggings and the white-and-gray fuzzy socks her mother had given her, then slipped into her beige sack coat and headed out toward the pharmacy.

She walked down the stairs from her second-floor apartment. The smell of the building—and of so many people living in it—always bothered her. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact; she didn’t want to engage with her neighbors. She liked it that way. At the bottom of the stairs, she stepped outside. The cold air and the city streets hit her simultaneously, pulling her abruptly out of her inner world and into the present one. She had grown accustomed to the noise of the city, but not to the people.

That much was confirmed when someone bumped into her, causing her to stumble. The man muttered a rushed apology and moved on. Annoyance flared, and she felt the urge to snap back—when suddenly she felt a tug on her leggings. Startled, she turned to see an older woman sitting on the hard concrete, wrapped in a blanket and perched on a towel. Alice quickly assessed the situation and noticed a small cup of coins had been knocked over.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said.

“Happens all the time,” the woman replied softly, though her voice still made Alice uneasy.

“Could you help me out?” the woman asked. The lines etched into her face told a clear story of life on the streets.

Alice hated this. Normally she walked past people like this with her head down, avoiding engagement altogether. But now she felt trapped—thanks to the jerk who’d bumped into her.

“I don’t have much cash,” Alice said, “but I can give you some change.” She reached into her black purse and pulled out her coin pouch. There goes my weekday treat money, she thought. She bent down and placed the coins into an old brass jar that had been set upright again.

As Alice started to pull away, the woman gently grabbed her arm.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Alice replied.

“Thank you,” the woman repeated. “I want to give you something.”

“No, no—I don’t need anything.”

The woman reached under her blanket and pulled out a small wooden box, about the size of a deck of cards. Alice felt her body tense, this made her really uneasy.

“Take this,” the woman said. “You need it.”

“I don’t want it,” Alice said quickly. “I’m happy to help, but I don’t need anything.”

The woman’s grip tightened—firmer than Alice expected, her fingers surprisingly strong. Wanting desperately to escape the situation, Alice relented. The woman released her arm.

Alice walked away briskly, heading toward the pharmacy, unsettled by the encounter. At the corner, she stopped and waited for the light to change, shaking off the moment. As she watched for the light to change, curiosity crept in.

What’s in the box?

She pulled it out and felt something shift inside. Etched in elegant calligraphy on the lid were the words: 3 Connected Rocks. She slid the box open to reveal three stones. The largest was dark blue, smooth, and almost rectangular. The second was a deep magenta, oval and polished. The smallest was white, irregular in shape, yet smooth like the others. She didn’t immediately see how they were connected, but they were oddly beautiful.

She was so captivated that she failed to notice the light had changed and people were already crossing. She snapped the box shut, slipped it into her pocket, and joined the flow.

The pharmacy on the corner seemed busier than usual—maybe others were feeling under the weather too. Near the entrance, a man was speaking to a small group, but Alice stayed focused. In the vitamin aisle, she overheard a clerk explaining something to a young man one aisle over. His voice was quiet, but she caught phrases about a presentation on the connection between body and mind. It was part of an ongoing series, he said, focused on body, mind, and soul.

Alice paused. She thought about how she’d been in therapy for years, yet not once had her therapist mentioned food.

Maybe I just need to eat better, she thought.

At the checkout counter, she smiled at the cashier. His name tag was dark blue: Brody.

“How often do you do those presentations?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The presentations—how often do they happen?”

“Oh, those? About once a week. I can give you a flyer.”

“Do you have them online?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

“I… think so. I can check.”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, sneezing mid-sentence.

“Bless you,” Brody replied.

She nodded, gathered her items, and left.

A block later, she reached her favorite café—Leaves, Ladle, and Loaf. Small and welcoming, it served some of the best soup in the city, and she loved their green tea. The décor and warmth always stirred something nostalgic in her—memories of the good parts of childhood.

“Hi, welcome to Leaves, Ladle, and Loaf,” said a bright, energetic girl at the counter.

Alice noticed her deep red name tag with white lettering: Mindy.

“I’m looking for something healthy,” Alice said. “And hot.”

“Oh! You’ll love our Heartfelt Goodness soup.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll take that, some bread, and a green tea—to go.”

Alice sat on a wooden bench while she waited. The café buzzed gently with conversation. She found herself listening to an older woman speaking to her daughter about therapy—and then about her spiritual life. Normally, that kind of conversation would have irritated Alice. But the woman’s voice was soft, loving, and the daughter seemed receptive. Maybe it was time for her to revisit her spiritual roots? she thought

Alice felt a twinge of envy. She and her mother had never been capable of conversations like that.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the box. One by one, she placed the stones on the empty chair beside her—blue at the bottom, magenta in the middle, white on top. They stacked perfectly. The symmetry held her attention, and she began to reflect on her own life—

“Alice! I have an order for Alice!”

She startled, quickly gathering the stones and returning them to the box. Food in hand, she headed home, hunger tugging at her thoughts.

Lost in reflection, she suddenly collided with someone. Her green tea spilled down the back of his coat.

She braced for irritation—but instead, he turned with a gentle smile.

“Usually people just give me a little push and say ‘let’s go,’” he said lightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Alice said, emotion surging unexpectedly.

Tears spilled as she leaned into him. He held her without hesitation.

“I don’t know,” she cried. “I’m just… tired of dealing with everything.”

When she finally pulled away, embarrassment followed, but his kindness remained.

“You’ve done enough,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

They spoke briefly before he hurried off.

Alice stood still as people flowed past her. Then she noticed something she’d never seen before—an old white sign hanging in a nearby alley. It read:

A Place to Feed Your Soul

She’d passed this spot hundreds of times. She tucked her pharmacy bag into her coat, held her food under her arm, and clutched the wooden box.

Maybe I need to make one more stop.