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Lines and Rings

It felt heavy and thick on her hand. 

 It was odd, like a shoe a half size too big that still pinched a toe. She stared at it on her finger, remembering the first time she ever wore it...remembering when he had placed it on her hand. That moment seemed a whole lifetime ago - just barely a memory - even though only a few years had passed.

She felt the weight of it. Had it gotten heavier? She knew the answer was no, but somehow it felt ten times heavier and twice as thick as the last time she had the cold metal wrapped around her finger. She wanted it to feel comfortable, she wanted it to feel...good. She stared in the mirror, hoping that if she stared long long enough, her feelings would change.... 

Her gaze drifted to her own face. There were new lines. She rubbed at the canyon between her eyebrows - when did it become so deep? She didn't love it, or the lines on either side of her mouth, but she didn't care to be flawless either. She knew the lines on her face were earned, and she didn't mind growing older - she knew it was a privilege denied to many. She ran her fingers through her hair, exposing a few of the stark white hairs that had grown in over the past year. She had earned those too - holding all of the stress and anxiety of the world. In her last job, it was ulcers. This job, white hair. She wondered what part of her would break in the next job...

She lifted her hand again. She hadn't forgotten about the ring, she couldn't. It didn't feel like her own anymore. But she wore it, because that is what love does. 

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