Originally published on Paragraph Planet.

Alt-text: Heartless. Waking up with a hole in my chest where my heart should have been was not as bad as seeing my husband’s ring weighing down a sticky-note. “Where’d you forget what matters most?” Clutching his ring, I somehow sprinted to the greenway, and there he was, a bloody plastic bang dangling from his left hand. I yelled his name. “And now what?” he laughed, the bag thrashing. I held out his ring, waiting.