In his hands was a beautiful bow, its shining, polished wood reflecting the gentle summer light. “I thought,” he said, not meeting my eyes, “that I should probably replace the one I broke.” I stared at the bow. It was beautiful, to be sure. I’d never seen such exquisite craftsmanship. Yet I stared for another reason. Just by looking at it, I could tell that this bow was the perfect size for me.
