It has never felt wrong, this ring. I have always put it on to return my hand to right. Yesterday, it feels like a part of my hand. But today, driving away from you for the last time, it was terrifying, aggressive. I touched it and felt the alien fear of it. I felt as though it weren't mine, and I stripped out off, throwing it into the empty passenger seat, panting, afraid. I stared at the cold titanium and wondered if I would ever put it on again.
I have touched my ring finger with my thumb, a simple gesture I didn't know was habitual, seven times unconsciously. Every time, I'm surprised.
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