Comforts

Comfort can be obtained from small things, a sweater of a father perhaps.

It can be taken from hugs, physical contact and warmth.

I found comfort in her ring. She let me borrow it, for a day or so, but that is where I found comfort when I couldn't get it from her directly. It reminded me of her, not just because it was hers but because of the traits it bore.

It was metal, rather strong. It didn't bend under light pressure like wire would or other rings I've had have done. On the inside, it appeared dark, but when I shifted the light it showed the true spectrum of colours it held. On the outside was depictions of skulls and cross bones, placed over a dulled steel band. It made the ring seem tough on the outside, and the stainless steel made it seem as if nothing could harm it.

That's how she is. Strong, dangerous, with a dark spirit. That was a bit of a rouse, I've seen her true colours, heard her voices, listened to her fears. Her ring reminded me of her, and it made me want to keep it close. Her hands are bigger than mine, so her ring rests on my thumb where it is safest. At one point though, it slid off, and it must have been quite the sight to see me drop my things and lunge for it. I got it though, and placed it safely back onto my hand, so I could keep it close still.

As odd as it sounds, I even found the ring managed to place my hormones back into a form of balance. It soothed me, made the day I was having seem not so awful or painful. When I began to be stressed I could rub a finger over the smooth metal, feel the warmth from her that seemed to stay. I can feel where her own fingers had run over the ring, and in that I find a sense of peace.

My comfort is in a ring, and for a reason I can't explain, I'm perfectly okay with that.