You should have come here then, he said. I wish I could have shown you how it was. Arrowheads. Along these rocky creek beds. Obsidian chips. Bits of chalcedony. Now and then opal embedded in feldspar. Sunlight low on the hills. Up in the draws, the shadowy bunch grass.
Of course, that’s all still here, but you don’t see the big quartz crystals, and hardly ever a geode anymore. Up there, on that ridge by the balancing rock, I once saw two antelope watching me just about dusk.
I followed him back to the truck. We kicked up a little dust on the high November desert.
I passed him the water bottle. He started the motor, and we headed back down into town.
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