I wore the ring you gave me today.

It is small, dull gold, with six little diamonds (real or fake?) in a row. It looks a little like an engagement ring, or a family heirloom. Something you wear because you want to wear, not because it matches your outfit.

As I slide it onto my finger, I notice that it fits very well. It’s not so tight that it cuts off circulation, not so large that it won’t stay on.

Throughout the day, I look down at it, at its muted glint in the sunlight. It slips down my finger the slightest bit, but not enough to fall off; no matter what, it clings to me.

I wonder why I wore it.

I wonder why you gave it to me.

a true story. but, perhaps, not about who you might expect.

(i am so sorry.)