When I was twelve, my first crush gave me his wooden ring (all the rage back in the day), and I gave him mine. His ring was too big for my finger, so I wore it on a leather cord around my neck. All the time. Even if it clashed with my outfit, I wouldn’t dream of neglecting his gift to me.
That ring told the world I was chosen.
That ring assured me I was cherished.
And that leather cord around my neck? Gently rubbing against my skin? A constant reminder of the one I cared about.