"Good night, Tine." "Good night, Rubob."

Tine likes to think about her afternoon walks before she falls asleep at night. Scenes from the day tumble around in her head, and it's very settling, curiously enough. "I suppose it's like a rock tumbler," Tine thought. By tumbling around, the sharp edges are worn away, and ordinary rocks are polished into gemstones. "I'm going to save some of my gemstones from today," Tine thought.