The Beads of Affection

There she sat, on the same bench, in the same park near the mountains. She sat there, stroking her bead bracelet, letting her mind wander over how he had brought her each bead time after time. She had never anticipated the joy the beads would bring her, the colors, the textures, till she had grown addicted to that feeling of euphoria each new bead brought.
He had asked for the same from her, each time; a new bead. He had not made a bracelet as she had, but he kept them safe, closest to himself, she knew. Precious, intricate, priceless beads.
She waited patiently to see the bead he would bring today, how it would feel, taste, sound, look. Where it would take her, and what it would teach her. He would ask for his, but he would understand, it was not her fault that she did not have one for him today. They stole it, pried out of her very hands. She had been powerless, intimidated, outnumbered. He would understand though, she could not give him that bead today, it was no longer hers to give to him.
She watched him walk towards her, the bead gleaming in his hand and she could not suppress the overjoyed smile that brightened her face. The smile absent from his face was probably because he could not see his bead in her hand, but he would understand.
She watched him slip the bead into his pocket, so as to show it never existed. She watched him turn and walk so as he had never come. She watched him vanish beyond the horizon so as he had never been.
She sat there, clenching her bead bracelet. The beads leaving an imprint on her palm, like his body had left on her body. Like his soul had left on her soul. Like his life had left on her life.
She studied the bead bracelet, it didn’t have enough beads to make it a necklace. She strung some extra thread around it, and wore it around her neck. She caught her reflection in the pond water and smiled. She gathered her things and walked towards her car, every eye in the park on her. She knew she would wear that bracelet her whole life. The beads, her identity. The beads her life story. The beads, her memories.