A Cold Pebble

The hallway smelled faintly of damp concrete. I walked out past the iron gate and followed the low curb along the quiet lane. Balancing along the narrow stone ledge was simple enough... until my shoe nudged a pale, round pebble lodged in a seam. I knelt down and worked it free. It felt unusually smooth and heavy in my hands. Where was I heading before that? Ah, well. It doesn't matter. I just sat down on the edge of the curb and turned the cold stone over in my palms.