The pearl earring

She is facing away.

She is not an old bag despite what he told her. Her chin points to the depths, sinking to peace. No longer will its point move in speech, displaying the dimple beside her lip curl.

No longer will I watch her defiantly argue against the odds, against the system...against him.

Water; blue yet warm washes her. She is devoid of everything but one pearl earring and the legacy she left behind. I raise myself from my chair and head to the march to ensure her voice lives on. He will be there, watching me, hearing me. In his wallet, hidden is her second pearl earring.