She placed it gently on her dresser so she could stitch it up. Some tape here, some glue there and it’s as good as new… Well, almost. She tied it to a string and looped it through her hand. Put it in her pocket to keep it hidden.. Hidden and safe. Tucked away in its case and locked, so no one can ever find it again. “No more chances,” she told herself. Avoiding questions on the matter and running from perilous scenarios. Carefully analyzing people’s intentions and what they wanted with it. Consumed with worry, as its designated guardian, she would tear down threats at all costs. Armed and ready, she held her breath.. until she could finally step inside her home. She’d close the door behind her and with a great sigh of relief she would lie back against the door. Looking up at the ceiling she would take a moment to soak in the familiar environment. Home, where she was alone.. Where there was no danger. She would walk into her bedroom and stop in front of the mirror where she would take off her shirt and gaze at the site before her. With a wave of despair and as the corners of her mouth suddenly felt heavier and heavier, she slowly reached into her pocket. She unwrapped it carefully and held it for a moment. Slightly hesitant yet determined, she gently brought it close to her chest and lay it in the cavity it once called home. Instantly, she was flooded with emotions and a rush of memories. Like a raging river coursing through her veins, she felt as though life was reignited in her. She looked back up at herself and smiled with relief at her victory. It was then that she realized it was still in her hand and its home was still vacant. Unsurprised at the outcome, the corners of her mouth started to droop once more, her cloud returned and her despair stayed true. She would neatly wrap it back up, place it back in her pocket, and turn away from the mirror. Patiently, she would wait until the next day, so she could relive her imaginary triumph.