You take your heart pendant off, because the bronze is beginning to darken.
You notice it one day after getting undress, when you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror.
You notice it in one of those foggy days after, and for this your reflection smiles at you with irony.
You place it in a little red tin box, decorated with Matryoshkas, bigger and smaller versions of the same round doll.
And you tell yourself that you’ll try to clean it afterwards with toothpaste. Worst case, you think, you’ll take out the little bottle of absinthe again, see if it can lead you to places not unlike the place where you ended up last night.
And then it will gloss again, you’ll see.
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