…And the boy took the words gifted by the girl and he tucked them deep inside, resting them between hip joint and thigh bone.

There they eased him.

At each new turn in the road when he had need for them he would, gently as a leaf curls, slip the words out and polish them up like a cricket ball against his heart.

Over time they turned tight and taut like a muscle, reminding him with each step of what he had held close and how he had loved. But slowly, as more time came and went, they fattened and softened until he could barely feel them at all.

Until one day when the words, those which had once been shiny as fresh cut rubies and as precious as water to a desert, just faded away altogether and the man forgot there had ever been anything beyond bone between his hip and his thigh.