Fiorella, as you know by now, is a wienie. She apologizes to table legs and chair arms when she runs into them. And she feels guilty about tossing rocks back into the driveway that aren't pretty enough to take back to the house and store in her stack of plastic boxes on the back porch. Then she worries that the rejects will feel . . . rejected.
And shouldn't common rocks be just as valued as sparkly ones?