I was sorting through old things today and found a pair of dolls a friend gave us for our wedding. They were carefully stored in a box, nestled together, just like we used to be. I stared at them for a long time, my fingertips brushing over the smiling face of the doll that represents me. Then, I took it out and placed it on the nightstand—right next to the lighter you forgot to take with you last time you left. A symbol of purity, a mark of ruin, lying side by side. I suppose that's the sum of me now, isn't it?