Amy sat under the willow tree, its dying leaves whispering in the chilling breeze. Her silver bracelet caught the light of the descending sun every few moments, glaring and disrupting her thoughts. Its charms, the paint on which was wearing off due to months of use, clanked together whenever she so much as lifted her hand; the bracelet never seemed to be able to escape her attention.
The willow tree rested on top of the hill in Amy's backyard. It was slouched over in a rather peculiar manner, as if decades of storms had gradually pushed it until the tips of the sagging branches swept the ground. It formed a sort of tent around the frontwards-facing portion of the tree, so Amy had made a habit of crawling inside and closing herself off from the rest of the world.
Amy sat up and brushed her thick hair out of her face-clink clink. For the thousandth time, she remembered when her mother had given her the bracelet in that little black jewelry box with a tiny red ribbon tied around it. "To remember to aspire to your greatest," she had said. Minutes before, Amy had been awarded second place in a gymnastics competition. She had lost to a girl one year younger than her-the girl's face was covered in the largest grin Amy had ever seen, while Amy's was covered in hot tears that she made no effort to hide. She had gotten her picture taken then, holding up that bracelet and her stupid second-place medal while Amy's mother tried to look proud of her daughter.
Two months later, Amy's math grade slipped and she ended the semester with a single B. She saw through her mother's smile immediately as Amy handed her report card over with a trembling hand. The charms on her bracelet shaking together were like bells ringing out in the following silence.
Amy thought of her filled backpack that was now sitting on the floor of her bedroom, ready to return to school when it began next week. It had been equipped with numerous items that she would probably never use, but her mother had always ensured that she was fully prepared.
"Just remember," her mother said as they returned home from supply shopping that afternoon, "Whenever those little charms jingle, you can think of me and remember to try your very best." Amy's mother reached forward and jostled them with her finger, her scarlet manicured nail grazing Amy's skin.
Amy didn't realize how much this infuriated her until she was sitting cross-legged under the tree with the silver bracelet clinking every time her hands formed tense fists. In a sudden burst of anger, Amy undid the clasp of her charm bracelet and flung it as high as she could above her. It hooked around a scraggly branch just near the top of the tree. She threw back the curtain of leaves and went in the house.
The sun was just setting outside when Amy left the willow tree. As the last light began to fade from the sky, a strangely cold breeze ripped suddenly through the tree. The topmost branch waved back and forth, carrying the bracelet and its charms with it.
Clink clink.
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