John Martin was lying face down on the cold, wet street, in a dark alley, next to a dumpster.
It started raining a few minutes ago.
He didn’t care.
He just laid there.
Right now, he just wanted to be. Every other moment of his life, it seemed like he was doing, doing, doing, constantly. And look where all that got him.
His clothes were soaked. He was lying in a puddle of dumpster filth, mixed with his own blood.
Fuck it. I’m just gonna lie here. It almost feels relaxing.
He felt like he could go to sleep, lying there in the alley, and a part of him wanted to.
But then he heard something.
It sounded like a car door closing.
John looked toward the street where there was more light.
A silhouette appeared and walked into the alley toward John. It looked like a large man.
The man bent down and lifted John’s right hand off the ground. John couldn’t muster the energy to resist. With his other hand, the man slipped a ring onto John’s index finger. And without a word, he dropped John’s arm back onto the pavement, turned and walked out of the alley.
John wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if this was real. Either way, it was very odd.
But he was curious.
He pulled himself up into a sitting position. He winced as he rose, grabbing his side with both hands. He wondered if ribs were cracked.
He looked at the ring on his right hand index finger. It didn’t fit - it was loose.
Then something strange happened, which made John wonder if he was dreaming again.
The ring seemed to move… on it’s own. To be more accurate, it felt like the ring somehow got smaller. It felt like it had resized itself, so it now fit perfectly on his finger.
And… somehow… it felt like the ring wanted to be on his finger. His finger.
John was too tired, and too emotional, and in too much pain, and too everything else to process any of this. He wrenched in pain as he pulled himself to his feet, and started walking to the subway, so he could get home.
Copyright © 2018 by Chris Davis. All Rights Reserved.
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