"We should get rid of this thing," Annette concluded. She rolled down her window. Even before Hugh could yell in protest, something deep inside Annette could not let go of the idol. She held it in her hand, its golden gleam seeming to travel up her arm and into her heart. This was not something that could be thrown away, even with good reason.
Slotted spoons don't hold much soup. - Stephen Sondheim