I was getting ready, and I was irritated.
He had just come back inside after doing some sort of packing-related errand.
“Where’s my jewelry?”
“It was right here, on top of the dresser.”
“Yes, I know that’s where it was, before you started piling all this crap on top of the dresser next to it.” Not my finest moment, if I’m being honest.
He stayed calm. “It has to be in this room somewhere. I don’t remember moving it.”
I looked down at my left hand.
Then I looked at my right hand.
I said, “Brent, it’s on.”
He misunderstood — he thought I was talking about how the move is on or something. “It’ll turn up.”
“No, I mean… it’s on. I’m wearing it.”
He looked up.
Pointed to me.
Yes, yes I do.
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