My phone chimed at 8:09 this morning, and the preview window announced a text from Paul. My heart leaped a tiny bit in my chest. I love seeing his name pop up on my phone.
My finger started to itch the moment I noticed the missing ring. It's absence is conspicuous as I go about my routines--the familiar slip of gold against my skin, the feeling of small diamonds leaving their impression in the palm of my opposite hand. There is a permanent indent around my ring finger where the band should be.
I feel naked.
Someday it will be replaced with a different ring that represents the next step, the next promise. While it may be relocated, my little ring will never be replaced in my heart, and it will never leave my hands.
Not for long, anyway.