The stone frog

When my grandmother died, I tried to find something to remember her by.
Once, she gave me a white stone frog.
But I don’t have it anymore.
So, I looked online for a white stone frog.
I saw one that an Australian artist had made.
It looked similar to the white stone frog I remembered.
So, I bought it. Twenty bucks for the frog, twenty bucks for shipping.
I opened the package, poured out a bin full of shredded paper, and removed the bubble-wrap.
The frog is much smaller than the original I remember.
But, then, so is my grandmother.

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