Molly and I peered into the hole, gazing in wonder.
"What do you think it is?" she whispered.
"A dinosaur bone," I said confidently. At age 8, I was an aspiring paleontologist and had enlisted Molly's help for my first dig.
She looked skeptical. "Really?" She ran a tentative finger along the edge of the 'bone' and then glanced at our surroundings. We were in the median of a busy street. "Cause it looks like a rock," she said.
"No, no!" I shook my head. "It's a bone. From an Apatasaurus."
But Molly just smiled and used the trowel to chip at the dirt. Every day for a week, Molly helped me dig, until it became obvious that we'd sooner get to China than uncover that enormous boulder.
Now we are adults, and few things are as constant as my friendship with Molly. She's never told me something couldn't be done. Instead, she gets out her trowel and helps me dig.
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