It was odd. That's really the only word I could use to describe it. Perhaps it was because I was so odd myself. Yes, that must be it. The necklace I held in my hand was a brown muddy colour. Everyone else's, I observed, was a bright colour. Vibrant pinks and blues, swirling together, mapping their destinies in the palm of their hand. And then there was mine. Just a disappointing brown. Nothing special about that at all, perhaps my brothers were right? Perhaps I wasn't going to find love after all. I would just be another story on the news. You know, "Woman of 83 dies without finding her soul mate." those stories? Where the supposed "Soul mate" was in another country, never to be found. As a child I had always been a hopeless romantic, thinking that my soul mate would be more beautiful than all of the other children's. Then perhaps they would stop making fun of me and see who I truly am, but as you get older those dreams fade into the distance. Like a dimming sunset, only you realize the sunset was never there. Perhaps I'm being a little over-dramatic. It's just a colour of a necklace... but as I looked around at the exploding and shimmering pigments around me, I couldn't help but get discouraged. Perhaps... perhaps.
