The linen belt he bought at the store smells white, and he can’t wait to wear it, even though he knows that doing so will make it smell like him. He buys it and wears it anyway.
He ties it tight around his waist, feeling its slight stiffness bend around his girth like a disgruntled child. But it does its job, and he wears it wherever he goes, only taking it off when he showers or when it rains.
He wonders whether falling in love with his linen belt is a symptom of insanity, but he does. In a short amount of time, it’s become a sign of comfort and the familiar, and the way it wraps around him makes him feel safe, which in turn makes him more daring.
But to keep his love safe, he hides it in the crevice of a rock. And when his neighbours storm his house and force him into exile, he is glad.
During the exile, he thinks of his belt often. He constantly reminds himself of its exact location, because once he forgets, it will mean that his belt has changed from being a hidden item to a lost item.
In the darkest of nights, he dreams of his belt, and wonders if it can save him from himself.