That’s when Ellie tugged at my sleeve and pulled me around the corner into the candy aisle.
“Grandma, look! Somebody left a treasure!”
I held the ring up to the light.
There was something engraved on the inside of the band. Very small. Worn almost smooth.
R.M. to E.M. — Forever — 1951.
Old. Older than me, almost.
Somebody’s grandmother’s ring, maybe. Somebody’s whole life in a little gold circle.
Do you think somebody’s crying because they lost it?
I closed my hand around it.
“Come on, Ellie,” I said. “Let’s take it to customer service.”
She skipped ahead of me down the aisle. Her ponytail bounced. Her old pink sneakers squeaked on the floor. The left one had a hole in the toe. I’d glued it twice.
She had a little stuffed bunny clipped to her backpack. A gray one, worn and floppy, with one ear torn off and sewed back on crooked. His name is Mr. Hops. She’s had him since she was two. Her mother gave him to her.
