She was in the kitchen when she realized her nose-pin was missing. As is the usual reaction to things that were close to you but not anymore, she panicked a bit. Without wasting a minute, she got down to searching the trail she could recollect. All the places she'd been not so long ago. The entire kitchen. The living room. The bathroom. The garden. The gate. Everywhere she could think of. Since she was indoor for the most part as she didn't have any work outside, she must have lost it on her property. Nevertheless, she kept looking given it was a gift from her grandmother. It has been a part of her identity since a young age and she remembered touching it while standing in front of the mirror that morning. Not to correct its position but out of habit. Strange it went missing. Stranger the way it went missing. Just like that. Gone. With nobody else in the house, she spent the entire day thinking of her beloved nose-pin. At dinner, she barely spoke to her husband and daughter—back from work and college respectively—after telling them what happened. They understood her attachment to that piece of ornament as well as the unusual silence at the table so they let her grieve her loss.
Three months passed by.
She was again in her kitchen and quite delighted to prepare the lunch. After all, her son was coming back from the UK. While she was preparing his favourite dish, the potato she was chopping julienne had something to say: "Clink!" It's difficult to guess who the nose-pin was happier to meet—the knife or the lady who grew her own vegetables.