Where did you get that ring

in Maine while the ocean kept doing what oceans do.

The ending was quieter.

It was me, sitting in my apartment on a Sunday morning, drinking coffee from a chipped mug, looking at the Thanksgiving photo on my bookshelf.

I was in the center.

Not because anyone placed me there.

Because I had chosen not to step aside.

My phone buzzed.

A text from my mother.

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