Damen looked at the wind chime fondly. The chimes were bleached white, like bones, and the painted beads had been the same color once before. It was simple, for bones they were. Millions of similar chimes hung about the dusty shop, many from... willing donors. What use did the dead have for their bones? But none were quite as ivory white as the one he gazed upon.
     The one capturing Damen's attention was special, not just from one donor, but from two. From his love, now long gone, and from himself. And - Damen smiled at this thought - it wasn't even complete.
     Raising a pale, lean arm, he watched with everlasting wonder as the bones beneath his flesh began their work. They broke and healed, multiplying, elongating, fracturing, destroying and mending themselves. Finally, a white point pierced the surface of his skin, rich, red blood crawling down his arm.
     Grinning like a fool, Damen gripped the little point firmly before pulling with all his might. The hole tore, large and gaping, but he paid it little mind. He marveled at the treasure in his hand. Long and thin, Damen could see the final chime hidden inside it.
     Not long now, love, Damen thought, a wicked smile spread across his handsome face, darkening it with a malicious shadow. Soon, it will be complete.
     Carrying the soon-to-be chime reverently to his work station, he began filing away at the bone, shaping it slowly, savoring every last moment. All the while, the blood on the floor sat, watching him work.