"So you're a Catholic?"

I nodded and ordered another glass of wine. I really didn't have to respond, knowing you are half interested to my story. True enough you started talking about your vineyard and its humble beginnings. I am use to nights like this. Pretending to listen to a narcissistic conversation. Feeding your ego by referencing on investments and bonds (big words that has no meaning to me whatsoever - all I know is that they are things for the rich kind). I am use to all this. I know when to smile and laugh so as to make you look good.

I caught myself playing with my rosary wrapped around my wrist. I wonder why he asked me about this? A worn out accessory that is not worth noticing. I've been collecting rosaries since I was a little girl. Back in my hometown I used to ask my father to give me one on my birthday. Since we don't have money, he makes it out of used materials which he scavenged. Then he'll accompany me to the church where we had it blessed. It is there that I make my birthday wish.

I was close to God until my father died and left me with a large amount of debt. I had to sell our little shack and all things in it. I was forced to live with a bunch of people in a community center. That is when life started for me. I had to make a living. Since I never attended schooling I am forced to oblige to prostitution.

The life I chose doesn't define me. That is what I keep telling myself. Every after work, I go home and pray. Hoping that I could get out - that one day I'll be saved. I guess after a while you tend to give up and accept reality. I earned enough money to move myself to a bigger city with better paying customers.

It's been five years. I guess this is the only thing that reminds me of my old life.

Now, I am sitting in a five star hotel about to accompany this man to his room. You grabbed my wrist covering the beaded jewelry that once defined me.