She was never without it. As long as she had pockets, she had his stone. Years later, even through new loves, she carried it, filling a gap 1200 miles wide.
Also comforting was the fact that a single stick of his Old Spice deodorant—applied to the stone now and then—could last this long. She told herself that it helped maintain the shine. And that the stone smelled like the man she loved was the lone sensual indulgence that she could justify.
All of this, of course, was too quirky to reveal to even her closest friends. So, it remained a secret, one worth keeping. The connection between her heart and his was sacred to her.
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