“I… I made this,” I whisper. “A version of it anyway.” “You did.” He lifts the bracelet. It’s been lengthened by chain. Altered. There’s no way it’ll fall off now, not unless the metal clasp breaks. “Do you remember when?” “I made two.” It is a memory. One I’ve dreamed about recently. Still, it seems to be coming at me from a long way off. We’re married until these fall off. He shows me his wrist. There’s the other one, also fortified with metal. Half gold and half blue. I remember—I remember making those. Presenting them.
