The Interpreted Rock

Stephen C. Schultz The sky was gray, with wispy clouds having just released their moisture. The sun was just starting to peek over the distant horizon and break through the gray fluff. To see these surroundings would have you believe it was a beautiful winter morning. The steam from my breathing wafted upward and created little ice crystals on my eyelashes. The sidewalk was covered in ice that had formed little potholes where people had walked before the snow could be shoveled. I was on my way to class at the local university. As I approached the corner, I heard a clicking sound accompanied by an almost imperceptible whirring. I glanced across the street and saw Trent, a 14-year-old young man, making his way down the street. I was able to wave and catch his eye. I shouted, "Hi Trent! Good to see you this morning!" There was no response. He simply kept making his way down the street with a very determined, focused effort. Some might consider that behavior on Trent's part t...