It's stupid, but I carry a Harry Potter card around in my wallet - the hologram gimmick is one of my most sentimental possessions.
You see, one of my friends used to own that card. Christened The Real Slim Shady after a bad peroxiding, he claimed that the card held his magic mojo and he insisted on carrying it on him when he went out. If he came right, it was thanks to Harry Potter magic. It must have worked because even I fell prey to the Potter magic for a spell.
Slim was in digs with Mills, Corporate Whore and The Tarka Kid. I adored the whole lot.
After he had packed up and shipped out of Grahamstown for the last time, I happened to wander into Slim's empty room. There was one thing lying on the floor... the Harry Potter card. I picked it up and pocketed it, with the intention of rehashing old times and mocking him about it when we next met up.
As it was, I forgot about it too. Varsity finished and friends flitted all over the world. Some people stayed in touch, others floated away. Slim was one of the ones that stayed in touch. We were both in Joburg while our long-distance partners were in Grahamstown and Cape Town, so we became a pairing of convenience. He would accompany me to work functions and I got to chill on fishing weekends at Dullstroom - provided I dropped the guys off at the dams with a cooler of beer and picked them up again at the end of the day. (I was banned from fishing after hooking my own shorts and knotting 'unknottable' reels.)
We were the backup plan - IF we grew old, ugly, single and lonely, we would keep each other company.
Then, three years ago, The Real Slim died in a plane crash. It goes without saying that I was shattered. So were a lot of other people. Slim was an dork - a loveable geek with no calf muscles who couldn't keep his eyes open when he was drunk. Everyone adored him - even when he was being an idiot.
A few months later, packing up to go move to London, I found the Harry Potter card tucked away in between my Rhodes memories. That card has gone everywhere with me since then. It's been to London, around Europe, to SA and back to Europe. It even recently found it's way to Croatia. It's stupid and sentimental and maybe one day I'll let it go.
Maybe. One day.
But not yet.