Whatever comes to mind. Sometimes a story I read, sometimes something that came to me while holding my mala beads.
A demon named Joy who ate other people's children to feed her own. The Buddha didn't fight her - he just let her feel that pain herself. A story about how wide our love can be.
When someone came to insult the Buddha, he simply refused the gift. A story about anger, response, and inner freedom.
Someone asked the Buddha: How can a single drop of water never dry up? Put it in the ocean, he said. Just one sentence. But that afternoon, watching the water stain vanish from my table, I felt there was more to it than that.