Bronte

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The boy rubbed the weathered rosary between his petite fingers. His thumb grazed the 14k gold encasing the chain and pendant. The cross was chipped at the end after years of use and prayer. Five generations it had lived through until Bronte Vitali gave it to him the day before senior year. The day they both realized that faith would forever keep their two worlds apart.

Samuel recalled the goodbye with a somewhat bittersweet feeling. He and Bronte had not had a horrible ending. Neither had done true harm to the other. It was the gods that had decided they walked separate paths. And it was for that reason why love would always remain in the other's hearts. Love, the purest form of it, reserved only for each other.

He remembered the cold necklace being placed in his open hand. So I'll always be with you, she'd said. And it had helped when at night the boy would cry into his pillow, cursing the body he was stuck in. Cursing the people who didn't understand him.

Every time he held the rosary, he felt Bronte's warmth and was put at ease.

Samuel had kept the rosary with him always. Never explaining to anyone as to why an agnostic person would carry such a religious artifact. It comforted Samuel to have it close at all times. It made things easier that way.

But now, while preparing for the last year of college, it became clear that Samuel no longer needed it. Something much better had finally come along. Something much more understanding and something much more loving.

Time had lessened the pain of losing Bronte. Now all he remembered was the warmth of her caring presence and the sweet calling of his name. He wished nothing more than for her to take good care of herself.

It was then that Samuel fulfilled one of the hardest lessons in life.

To let go.

Thin gold disappeared into the large envelope.

"Goodbye, Bronte."

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