"I like your bracelets," I told her.
"Thanks." She said with a smile, awkwardly fiddling with the same bracelets I had complimented her on.
I didn't even think much of the bracelets she wore at that time, I thought they were cute. They were hand made, and stuck on her writs, knotted tightly. She played with them when she got nervous. She always had the bracelets; when they fell off in a few weeks, she made a new one. Sometimes she would play with them, staring at them as though remembering something. When I started playing with them, she never said anything.
"What's with the bracelets anyway?" I finally asked one day.
She sifted awkwardly.
"They mean something to you, right?"
She nodded. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell you."
I thought it was odd, but I didn't say anything. Then one day, she told me.
"This one is to remind me to be myself. This one is to remind me of my best friends. And this one for my family."
"And the last one?" I asked.
It was a simple yellow bracelet. It wasn't anything fancy.
"I've been through a lot." She said quietly.
"I know," I said, comforting her.
"I lost someone once. She was a friend. I was pretty young."
I just held her, closing my eyes, feeling her pain.
"I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head. "Not right now, but I want to tell you. Someday."
"I'll be here whenever you want to tell me."
"Thanks."
I ran my finger along the yellow bracelet. Now I knew. I knew how such a silly little thing could be so important.
