And by that, I mean nothing at all like yours.
. . . . .
She stared at the tiny rock, crouching over it as to get a better view. Something about it was calling to her, but that's silly! It's just a rock and rocks don't speak. However, to her, she felt they could. The stories these earthen materials could tell, if only they could speak to others as they could, her. No one understood them, at least, not as well as her if she'd been asked about it. No, this tiny pebble had quite the tale. Quite the tale, indeed.
Too bad it can't speak for itself.
Maud gingerly picked the tiny rock up, bringing it closer to her inspecting eye. Rotating it several times in her hand, a ghost of a smile forms on her face and she pats the tiny thing with her free hand. "I'm gonna name you... Boulder. How does that sound?"
The rock spoke nothing, for it cannot speak. She takes this as a positive reaction.
"Come on, Boulder. Let's get to school."
Internally, the rock screams for help that will not come.
Needless to say, the teenager had received a lot of strange, dismissive looks that day. Talking to a rock; how crazy is that?