She fiddles with it constantly. It has been with her for as long as she can remember, in this pocket and that, wrapped around fingers, tied to the different aids to perambulation her body has rested in, leaned upon. At moments she has wondered if it is endless like prayer beads. Her shock, then, is sudden. Slipping through her fingers, she feels the end briefly, slightly frayed, not sealed and neat like a shoelace. And then it, like she, is no longer.