The necklace stared back at me in the mirror, the charm at the end seeming to burn my chest where it rested on my skin. Forever, the heart-shaped charm read mockingly to me, as if it knew exactly what had happened thirteen days ago. I unwillingly glanced at the clock. Thirteen days and one hour, I corrected myself. It seemed as if wearing it now was some sort of disguise meant to trick others, while the necklace itself knew that I was simply an imposter.
I could distinctly remember a slight quickening of my heartbeat every time I closed the clasp around my neck, how I proudly showed off that heart-shaped charm to anyone who would look. Now I could only feel embarrassed that I would try to hide the truth, as if I were in any way the same person I was thirteen days, one hour ago.
Forever, it laughed again, the letters covered slightly with the dust it had accumulated after being thrown under my dresser. But I could only leave it there, crying to be worn, for so long. Yet even now as I answered its cries, the necklace ridiculed my failed attempt at masking the past. Able to take its scorn no longer, I wrenched it off, sending the charm spiraling into a corner. Pathetic, I thought to myself repeatedly.
Still, I stared at the empty spot on my neck, longing to wear the charm proudly as I once did, and longing even more that I could be proud of my lack of a necklace. From the corner, I could faintly hear the heart-shaped charm laughing at these thoughts. Silly girl, it jeered. Don’t you know that it’s impossible to disguise a broken heart?