After 40 years of wearing my wedding band, I decided it was time to get it properly cleaned. The jeweler examined it carefully, his brow furrowing as he turned it over in his hands. Then he looked up at me with an unpleasant expression. “You shouldn’t have this,” he mumbled, his tone angry. My pulse quickened, perplexed by the abrupt change in the room’s atmosphere…
The jeweler’s words hung in the air, full of meaning. I attempted to keep my voice calm as I asked, “What do you mean I shouldn’t have this?My attempt to sound calm failed, and the tremble in my voice revealed my growing anxiety. His gaze shifted from the ring to my face, as if seeking an explanation. The room appeared to press in on us, and the silence grew unbearable.He was apprehensive, hesitant to turn the ring over again in his hands. His eyes focussed on something small and almost undetectable. “What is it?
I leaned in to see what he was looking at, but he yanked the ring slightly out of reach.” I demanded, my fear rising. However, he provided no instant response, exacerbating my aggravation and worry.My heart started pounding in my chest. It’s just cleaning, I told myself, attempting to quiet the building wave of panic. How could something so simple become so ominous
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