Friday, January 11, 2013

The Wren's Release

I’d seen it in a jewelry store that I’d had no business browsing through. A laborer couldn’t hope to have enough cash or credit to buy 99% of what was on display, and even the clerks tended to smirk when I passed them by in my holed jeans and cut off denim jacket. But I returned to that spot every few days for a month or more, as something had caught my eye, and I needed to keep reminding myself that a unique woman deserved a unique gift, no matter the cost.

She gasped once she’d gently unwrapped it at my direction; a birdcage of blown glass, a small ring atop with which to hang it, and inside, a ruby red bird of exquisite miniature detail. It had cost me a small fortune, but I never would answer when she begged me to tell her its price as that was not the point. To me it was individual beauty for beauty, a return to her what she’d gifted me with for the years we’d been together.

A year later as she was moving out after having told me we were old news, she tossed the cage into a box alongside her other knickknacks in preparation for the journey to her next green grassland. Of course it near pulverized upon landing, and the ruby red bird was set free. I was devastated; but even then I recognized a perfect example of poetic justice, as unjust as it seemed.

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