When I pick it up, it’s a big deal. It’s a hole in my pocket: wind swishes through it, giving me a little thrill. It’s an event. Every time I put it on, I remember everything I had to overcome to be standing in front of the most expensive shop in the city.
When he picks it up, it’s a box to check. It’s a nuisance, nearly no time left before the departure. It’s cheaper than a penny. Every time I put it on I feel a link in a chain that is never ending; a link easily replaced with a shinier, newer one.
Every time I smell of kumquat, apricot and black currant I feel the power that no one can take away from me but me.
It’s my world. He is just living in it.
