He surveys it with a critical eye, turning his head this way and that. After a moment of fierce inner turmoil, he sighs, "Better keep it. Don't know when I might need it."
He replaces it among the others in their heap, useless trinkets in their multitudes, things that he honestly has no reason to keep, and he knows it, but still he cannot bear to part with any of them.
He buries it deep, telling himself he's saving it for a rainy day.
