You cannot stumble across me, nor find me by coincidence. The only way I can be found is when I am already known.
Only told of by another my whereabouts are not publicly known. I die with the last one who knows of me.
I am hidden.
After
I’ve imagined it so many times that the weight and the cold touch feel natural to me. But in my imagination, I always see what happens after.
Just wait till Google indexes this and skyrockets it to the top of the “Zander’s Garden” results.