Her gift to the sea

   She held the symbol from town to town.  Her fingers smoothed over the crystal that displayed the other side, and on the back the scratches of a fictional woman long forgotten.    She wore the symbol as she hung her limp body over the edge one day, her wrist swam in the enormity of it as her small fingers leapt to catch it from the fall.   It was a delicate thought of him at the final release,  her gift to the sea,  knowing the truth of how it would never be.  She had a quiet death that day as she watched the silver turn to black with thoughts of birds and Kerouac.   But this is the melodrama of a fictional woman you see who held symbols too close in a land of reality