Or at least I like to think me loving something makes it important.
  1. My necklace. My beloved porcelain feather necklace that's been wrapped around my neck for years
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    I bought it in Finland from a small designer and it's been around my neck for most days since.
  2. Chances are that if you've seen me in the last 3+ years, you've seen the necklace.
  3. It's was ripped off of me at a concert in DC exactly 5 weeks ago today
    By a man who assaulted me.
  4. He pulled it, breaking the chain as I was fighting to get away.
  5. When I was finally able to get away, I scraped it from his hand and watched it fall to the floor but not break.
  6. I scooped it up and ran.
  7. I tucked it away in a zippered compartment in my bag so I wouldn't lose it.
  8. I found it earlier today in the same spot I placed it 5 weeks ago.
  9. I took it out thinking about that night and then all the good memories I had wearing it before that.
    It was a part of me.
  10. I set it down on a table in my bedroom and out of the corner of my eye, I could see it slipping off, falling quickly to the ground below.
    It was not near the edge so I have no idea how it fell. But it did.
  11. I tried to catch it but I was too late.
  12. It had landed on BJ's book 'One More Thing' and broke in two.
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  13. I'm sad. I know it's just a necklace, but I love it and I'm sad it's now broken.
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