He took the jewel out of the box and placed it in my hand.
I ran my thumb along the left edge of the pendant until I felt the hinge, right where my mother had shown it to me, just as I remembered it.
I pressed it gently and the medallion opened. It was empty. But inside was engraved a small floral motif that I would have recognized even in total darkness.
My father wouldn’t let me use it until I turned 18.
I gripped the pendant tightly and felt my pulse quicken. Either my memory was playing tricks on me… or something was very wrong.
