[ WP ] When two people fall in love , they receive an object that is the physical embodiment of that love . It changes as their feelings change towards each other and destroying it can have drastic consequences . How does this change the nature of relationships ?

She's the loveliest, most beautiful woman I've ever known. 
 
 I'd never met a kinder person until my path crossed with hers. Anne is always smiling. She's the kind of girl who can get so excited about something she loves. She uses wild hand gestures as she speaks, bouncing on her toes, sharing with you whatever she is excited about. Like her newest favorite novel, or the science behind nature, something she loves so much. Does n't that sound wonderful? Anne *always* has something interesting to say. I sometimes call her the Internet; I feel she knows everything. But she is n't obnoxious, oh no. She's just as interested in what you have to say. 
 
 Her small, adorable chin fits perfectly on my shoulder whenever we hug. That would be often, too, as she's such a loving, encouraging person. She can be so supportive of whatever I'm going through. When we we embrace, I stroke her soft, light-blonde hair. She's a great hugger. But, I always loved Anne's eyes the most. They're like sapphires, the brightest blue of day. When she looks at you, she sees right into your soul, and loves every bit of it. No one had ever looked at me like that before. I always wonder how I got so lucky to have her. 
 It was only a few months into our relationship before we both knew it was time to get our object. We were almost hopelessly in love. It was time to take it to the next step. 
 
 `` Are you ready for this?'' she asked me. She grinned, playing off being confident and prepared for whatever the world could throw at her. I knew her too well. Her thin leg was jiggling as she sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. 
 
 `` You bet.'' I did n't have much to say. Back then, I'd usually just let Anne do the talking. She stopped moving her leg and sighed. 
 
 `` You know that it's possible fidgeting may be genetic. I probably got that from my mom. You look nice today. Your pants are a great color. Why is n't there a pile of magazines or something in here to keep people occupied? Or a book? Well, they probably have something better to do. I always thought being an Object Maker would be an interesting profession if I did n't get into writing. They have such a busy job, but they do it so well. It's fascinating. Do you have a book? I just finished re-reading *Tunnel in the Sky* this morning, or I would have brought one.'' 
 
 `` Anne. I bet our object is going to be perfect. And even if it's not, it'll only get better. *We* will only get better.'' I reached for her hand. A lady with a clipboard interrupted the motion by calling our names before I touched her. I just gave Anne a supportive look as we stood up to follow her into a back room. She had such beautiful eyes. 
 
 `` Just as a warning, your object can not be returned. It can be broken however, though I highly suggest that be avoided. It results in the death of the buyer.'' That would be Anne. It's tradition that the family of the girl pay for the Object, like with weddings before our time. I did n't think we would ever break ours. I would do anything for Anne. Anything. 
 
 I never knew how much. 
 
 Anne waited until we were home before unwrapping and opening the small white box. She was a bit anxious that the box was small, I think. 
 
 She paused. `` A phone?'' She smiled and turned it on. `` A smart phone?'' Her eyes lit up. We could have never afforded one before. She sat down in an old armchair and was caught up in its amazing power. It was round and white, fitting perfectly in her trim fingers. 
 
 `` The internet, games... it has everything!'' She played until the wee hours of the night. I went to sleep. She never followed. 
 
 `` Anne?'' I asked the next day. 
 
 `` Huh?'' Her eyes never left the screen. I kissed her head and went to work. Always caught up in knowledge, I assumed that she could n't resist knowing just a bit more. 
 
 It did n't seem as if she'd moved when I returned. I brought her favorite dinner home from the local Italian joint. Calzones with extra ricotta. I just put it next to her and went on with my evening. Her fingers flew as she typed a reply to some article. I had to fill out a couple of reports at my desk. It was quiet that evening. Usually her voice permeated the small house, but it was silent. My few attempts at conversation were either answered with one monotone word or completely ignored. I again went to bed alone. 
 
 This continued for days. The phone grew into a small tablet. For a while I thought her fascination cute. But I missed Anne. It was almost like she was n't even there. I could n't even get her to look me in the eyes. 
 
 Days turned to weeks, and the tablet grew into a large computer. The newspaper had fired her, I learned later. I did n't know Anne had been neglecting to send in her weekly column. I was scared. A beautiful Anne became a thin zombie of a girl. I did n't think I would ever see her eyes blue again. 
 A year went by, and I did n't know how she survived. I never saw her eat. My dreams were only nightmares, if I could ever sleep. Our object had taken her beautiful, beautiful soul. It was n't her in that chair. I had no idea where my Anne had gone. The Object had to go. 
 
 That's why I did it. That's why I'm here now. I'd do anything for Anne, anything for even the chance of freeing her. Even kill her.
