Dream

The hearts are shimmery turquoise-purple, the color of the dress I wore to prom junior year, shifting in the light. The perfectly smooth, polished surfaces feel cool against my palm as I scoop a handful; they clink together so musically. Satisfying. Each the perfect size, an inch, fitting comfortably in my fist like it was molded there. They sit on the shelf as I dip my fingers into them and sigh.

"They're beautiful," the girl exclaims, and everyone agrees. They each reach out, take one, hold it in their palms, watch it shimmer and shift in the light. I watch their eyes glowing. "Keep it," I say. "One for each of you." They beam at me, smiles as satisfying as the smooth stone.

I look at the shelf. Only a few scattered hearts, exposing the pale wood. I reach toward them but not enough remain to bury my fingers in. My breath quickens. Those were my hearts. My skin itches for the smooth coolness. My eyes are stinging. "I'm sorry," I hear my voice repeating, "I'm sorry, I need them back, I'm sorry..." I'm crying now, their confused eyes hidden by my tears as I reach out desperately. One by one they return my hearts to my outstretched palms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

I pile them back on the shelf, hiding the rough wood, dip my hand into the pile, listen to the music of their clinking. Close my eyes. I couldn't let go...they are mine. In the end, I just couldn't let go.