Prompt: Describe your most treasured item without actually giving away what it is.
I look at the black cord lying on my bed. My hand runs over the cool, dented metal as I slip it into my pocket. I feel the jagged edge digging into my skin. It doesn’t hurt though. It’s more like a gentle reminder that it’s there. Like it’s begging me not to let it be forgotten as it’s duplicate was. I couldn’t help the fact that the other was forgotten though. It wasn’t in my control. It just shows that no matter how close two things or people are, they can still drift apart.
(This isn’t my most treasured item, I couldn’t think of mine so I did it about what someone’s could be.)