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Rated: E · Short Story · Spiritual · #863914
Micro-fiction story about a ring, and a miracle.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!”

Her sun-browned, youthful hands dropped a feisty fish into the storage tank almost absentmindedly. A five-minute struggle with the creature lost its exhilaration the instant she realized her wedding ring was missing. Her agitation rocked the small boat wildly.

He watched her stare at her naked finger in horror, and knew instantly what had happened. Losing a ring in the ocean was akin to tossing it in a volcano or flinging it into a chasm.

They’d only been married a month, and the ring had been her mother’s, worn until she’d died of cancer just last year.

There was simply nothing to say.

- - -


His weathered, age-spotted hands shook slightly as he reeled in a small fish.

“That one will make a nice supper,” she told him, smiling wanly.

They were both thinking of the ring, and both of them knew it. For forty years they’d returned to the same spot, just outside the bay, in remembrance -- as if to get closer to her mother as well as to the ring itself. Neither ever mentioned this; neither had to.

Once home, he cleaned the small fish carefully with a silver blade while she sat nearby and watched. One cut revealed something strange - a metal object.

“What’s this?” he pondered, reaching for a cloth. She leaned in to take a look.

“It’s a ri --“

It can’t be…

“Oh, God. Oh, God!”

He breathed a prayer and rinsed the ring carefully. Then he slipped it onto her finger where it fit perfectly, shining like something miraculous and new.

There was simply nothing to say.
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