The sound of the bells she wore entered the store before she did. The next thing to come was the bright, in-your-face colors that lay splattered across her jacket. As she passed by my table to order her coffee, french vanilla – extra caramel, the jangling of bells lingered behind her like foam on the beach. High top sneakers, pink and black polka-dot socks, skinny jeans and turquoise jewelry defined her being. That- and the bells. Much larger and louder than the tiny, decorative ones you would expect someone to carry. Those are meant to only be barely intrusive, there enough to give someone the impression of joy. These bells were obvious, completely unmissable, and they followed her out of the coffee shop just as tawdrily as when they followed her in.
The Sound of Bells