Her hair smells of sea salt as I nibble a lobe, her breath warm and rapid, a thousand senses on point. From under my pillow I pull a satin box and wrap her fingers around like ribbon. I love you, I whisper.
She lifts the top and pulls a ring, its red stone lustrous and smooth. A ruby? she asks.
No. Glass. Polished smooth by the sea. From our first beach walk.
I remember, she smiles. You tucked it in your pocket as waves lapped our toes. You knew then?
Her smile wanes. I thought it was a ruby.
Jeff Switt is a retired advertising agency guy who loves writing flash fiction, some days to curb his angst, other days to fuel it. His words have been featured at Dogzplot, Boston Literary Review, Flash Fiction World, Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 Word Story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Word Stories, and Shotgun Honey, and have appeared at lots of places that take whatever you send in.