153. Demon.


My older ‘sister’, a close close friend of mine, left for college two years ago. That summer, she called me up, asked to come voer for a brief second. Sure, stay for breakfest! Nah, I’m leaving soon. Oh, okay. She appears in the driveway twenty minutes later. I actually don’t think we left the driveway, the whole time.

We said out goodbyes, laughed, joked, talked about simple things. Right before she left, she handed me two things. I open them after she’s gone, and I think I cried – a ring with a Chinese character on it (Love), and the leather wristband with her nickname on it- Demon.

About a year and a few months after I got these gifts, the wristband fell off. The snap sometimes did that, but I was usually hyper-aware and would notice it in seconds. Not this time. I went crazy looking for it, declared it lost a month later, and hoped that someone had found it, that it wasn’t moldering away. I stopped obsessing over it, only the occasional wistful thought.

Today, Kelly stopped me in the hallway, Here! Should I open it now? Shrug. We kept walking past each other. I take the tape off of the note, written in orange highlighter. Faded leather, a bit of white paint in the ‘de’, my wristband, back into my hands. I gape.

The note was written by a girl, Holly, who collected leather wristbands, and had found it in the hall one day. After going out to dinner with a friend of Demon’s they’d stared at the leather and told her who it had belonged to. Kelly, today, had seen it and told her that Demon had given it to me. I hugged her and tried not to babble, cry, or embarress myself. She told me the story, smiling. I told her how much it meant to me.

And really? It almost means more that the little brat managed to find its way back to me.


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