The Circle That Never Ends There was a flash of lightning in front of me. It had been raining for over an hour, and everybody had already left. Water was dripping into my face and eyes, causing the tears to look like rain droplets. The sky was dark and threatening, perfect weather for a horrible day. My sister is watching me from the church window, presumably waiting for me to come inside, but I don’t come in. Of course, I never owned a watch so it could be past 6:00 for all I know. I hear nothing, feel nothing, except the cold metal of our ring against my finger. No use for it anymore I guess. Looking down one last time, I study the headstone; In loving memory of Laura Brawence. Wife of Hunter Brawense. Died 1973. “In loving memory”... such a worthless phrase. The sun was beating down on my face as the gravestone looms up at me. It is April 21st and spring had come already. Three years have passed since my wife died, and our ring has been on my finger ever since. The metal is worn, and the finger is red and swollen under it. I still never take it off, even if it reminds me of the day when she had passed. The night before our wedding, we had two rings made. The rings were made especially for the two of us, and they pulsed with each other’s heartbeats. The ring was plain and simple, but elegant no less. It was silver, with a gold band running through the middle, a pale blue stone at the center with a tiny glow, holding the other’s heartbeat. It was a blessing, then a curse when one day it stopped beating. I was stuck in what seemed to be a never ending traffic light. It had been a terrible day at work, my boss laid me off with no chance of coming back, because there wasn’t enough money. Not only we were struggling with finances at home, but Laura was expecting. The light turned green and, immediately pulling away, noticed something felt off. Some crappy rap music was playing and I punched the radio off. Something was definitely wrong, there was something missing, it felt like a presence was suddenly gone. Moving my left hand up to the 10 o’clock position, I saw the ring. Not thinking straight, letting go of the steering wheel the car nearly crashes into a lampost. My mind went blank, all I remember was speeding down highway 48, running every light, just to get home. The screen door slammed behind me, but my feet had already carried me
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