Life can’t be lived in reverse. And now it’s too late. And I’m dying. I glance down and see the ring on his finger. I pick up his hand and turn it over in my own. “You’re wearing your ring.” He presses a sweet kiss to the inside of my palm. “You’re not wearing yours.” I reach under the neck of my blouse and pull out the long gold chain that never leaves my neck. There, dangling from the end, is my wedding ring.
