Sepulchre

Frozen fingers squeezed her shoulder. An eidolon’s grasp. The wooden legs of her chair scraped the tile below as her body shuddered in its shadow.

“Apologies, my love. Did I frighten you?” Leaning across Ginny’s shoulder, Richard took her left hand in his, the ice on his lips scraping raw the knuckle on her ring finger. “You left something on the chest of drawers this morning.” Encasing her with his arms, he slid the brilliant shard onto her finger.

“It looks beautiful there—where it belongs.” Cool lips brushed her hair and he was gone.

Gin remained at her desk for some time, sliding the ring on and off. It wasn’t forgetfulness that had left it on her dresser. She had wanted to know if her hand would feel lighter without the weight.

Fifteen years ago, they had been looking at the bay when he had come up behind her like he had now. Back then, it seemed romantic when he cocooned her inside his arms and gave her the ring. It had felt secure. She hadn’t known then that his gift would become her tomb.

LKT © 2015

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