“Don’t You Think It’s Pretty?”

“Don’t you think it’s pretty?” She asked absentmindedly. She ran her fingers across it, drumming softly.

Roger slipped his shoes on and looked up. “I think it’s lovely my dear,” he says. “But we must be going, we don’t want to be late.”

She pays no mind to his words too transfixed on the weight upon her neck.

Roger comes up behind her embracing her from where she stood on the stool. “If you don’t stop staring at it my love, I’ll have to take it back.”

She slowly turned around to face him, a hint of remorse flashed across her eyes.

“Roger my love, if one thing’s for certain I will never take it off.” and with that, she took a step off the stool she was standing on. Roger shaked his head and placed his hat upon it.

“My love, always one for dramatics.” He sighed as her body swayed slightly. “I’ll see you at the party, and don’t forget to lock the door.” and with that, he was gone.

She hung there smiling in her final moments and the door unlocked.