Tarnished Ring

He sat on the steps of the church, alone in his thoughts. The wedding guests had departed long ago.  The only person to stay behind was his sister, and she was sitting with him, holding onto his arm as if to ensure that he wasn’t going to do something that he would later regret.

That was why he knew something was up; her grip tightened on his arm to the point where it was becoming painful.  He was about to ask her what was wrong when he glanced up and saw his fiance, no, his ex-fiance, standing in front of him.

“I came to give you this,” she said, holding a ring out to him. The diamond in center was smeared with oil from her fingers, dim and dirty.

“It’s yours,” he said. “I gave it to you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything anymore. Take it. Sell it. Or give it to that hussy.”

He looked at her hand, holding the ring. Long, graceful fingers that once caressed his cheek.

His sister reached up and took the ring. “I think you should go now,” she said. “Join your boyfriend.”

He saw her feet turn and walk away. He felt his sister slide the ring into his pocket. She was right. He did love his girlfriend more. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and started to shine it.

 

 

 

Thanks to A Writing Prompt A Day for the idea!

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