buttons.

Memories. I saw a button on the ground today. Its crazy; the things we forget but one tiny thing can bring it all back in an instant. This button was white, four holes in the center. The edge of the button had a gold colored trim. It was next to a rock, mixed in with the pebbles and dirt.
Flashback. Im in Emily Price's kitchen, and on a shelf, there are buttons. A lot of buttons. Small ones, big ones, purple ones, green ones. Some had one hole, others two or four. Some had decorative trims, or unique patterns, others were dull and plain. I asked her "whats with all the buttons?" She tells me her father collects them.
Buttons. They hold thigns together at the seams. They fall of and things get lossened up. They tighten and give things character. Theres so many people in the world, who hold others together at their seams. I have family and friends who are my buttons that keep me together. They are thebuttons that give me character. They are buttons that sometimes fall off, leaving me vulnerable. But there are always other buttons willing to take the place of a lost button, willing to make mends to the loose material and thread everything back together, in its correct place.