In the morning, the rock found something had changed about the surroundings of this spot of origin. A rectangular prism had been erected a meter away, casting a shadow over the rock. A quarter of it had been sculpted into a rough face. It was quite skillfully done but the nose on the face had been unceremoniously chipped off and laid on the ground below.

At that point, the mystery sculptor appeared to have given up, either for the day or altogether. Even the tools used to make it so far sat at the foot of the prism. Rust appeared on them so they must have been there for awhile, or at least just for a rainy day. Who could have made such a thing?

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More importantly, would it be considered a rock? Like it was a structure carved out from a quarry and made from limestone or perhaps marble, so it was made from rock, but was it itself considered as such or as a derived form was it its own thing? It really didn't matter in the end as it was unfinished and imperfect with the chipped nose. At the same time, the Rock had an imperfection of its own, a similar chip into its formerly perfect round shape.

No wait, it was an oval, a perfect oval. Shining like a gemstone but not good enough for a raccoon's taste. The chipped side faced the dirt beneath and became a favored place for the occasional beetle or a surfacing worm. It still served a purpose and was hidden from the outside world, a far better position than the unfinished statue.