She didn’t mean to let it go. Immature reality…she never knew its value in her soul. She never understood the intensity with which it’s barbs had burrowed into the meat of her heart. The loss, in reflection, caused her sudden fall from steady existence. The path, once smooth and clean, grew jagged and covered in brambles. The woods became treacherous, the water deep and dark, the very air thick with warm poison. It seemed as though the possibility of survival had escaped her grasp. She could not see through the reddish veil of her growing pain. She could find no way to dam the flood of thorny blood soaked memories. It was just a simple mistake, a miniscule oversight. She hadn’t seen the value of what she held inside her careless fingers. She had no idea how firmly the treasured state held her in its own grasp…until it was too late.