I take the ring off my thumb finger, the one he gave me months ago at the flea market, and shove it against his chest. It falls to the sidewalk, and he looks down at it. “Goodbye, Thayer.” My voice cracks. For the first time in weeks, his face shows some sort of emotion other than confusion. He knows. I’m closing the door on us. Ending the chapter. We’re a period on the end of a sentence. Full stop.
