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