Clasp, The

My parents bought me only one piece of jewellery in my life. When I
was twelve, there was much hoohah, and trips to the local jewellers,
uhming and ahing over different styles of silver chain. These bracelets
were to be made for my elder sister and I, with Saint Christopher
medallions, on which our names would be inscribed.

I had and still had small thin wrists, and small hands, unlike my
sister. She got a heavy weight of silver chain for her bracelet. Mine
was extremely fine and light. I was so proud to be wearing this,
although just silver and all my peers at school dripping with
gold.

The clasp broke. The soft metal undone one day. Was it when I was
playing basketball, was it when I was putting my coat on. I never found
out where or how I lost that chain. I approached the lost property
office, nearly always shut, and tucked away in some strange place in
the huge school, guarded by a fierce French woman, with trepidation. It
was never returned.

That was the last piece of jewellery I'd ever own.