Gold

"What is this made of?" I asked the jeweler, fondling the necklace. It really was lovely.

He grinned at me, a grin meant to be friendly, to reassure, to sell his product. The grin was terrifying, revolting, nauseating. "White gold of the highest quality," he assured me. His teeth were tinged the slightest gray.

I dropped it away from me, as if disgusted. I don't know why I did it, I just did it. "Gold?" I echoed.

To be honest (though this only occured to me somewhat later), I really did find gold somewhat distasteful in so many ways. All well enough in its place, but it was so much easier to accidentally make gold trashy than silver, or glass.

Or perhaps I was overly sensitive to such things. Ellen told me I was overly sensitive to such things.

But I was also overly sensitive to sneering, and when the man sneered at me, I felt guilty something awful. So I bought the necklace, even though it was about a hundred dollars more than I strictly should have been paying for any one thing.

So I gave up morning coffee for a month.

And that's what made me not get hit by the bus.