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After Momma died, the ring promised me disappeared.
When my sister died, I found it in a box with a note. “Momma thought I’d lose it. Pawn it. I had to prove I could care for it, like you would.”
I sighed, warmed she’d succeeded. Momma’s ring was hers. Forever.
Liz Mayers writes short fiction from Long Island’s North Shore. Find her at lizmayers.com