A wizened notch in the mother-of-pearl broach only made the contour of such a piece of jewelry more endearing. It must have caused a thousand pin pricks in her clothing, since it was the everyday staple in her wardrobe. Even though her favorite sweater was overgrown and bulky on her withering frame, she would never exchange it for something new. Her comfortable surroundings now were mostly memories, but even those were starting to dwindle. Sitting outside in the afternoon, plucking fading petals from her chicory plant, she was reminded that all life is temporary.