Where did you get that ring

weeks before our honeymoon to Nashville.

“You and me,” he had said, tapping the lid, “we’re going places, Evie.”

We never got much farther than Ohio. Life had a way of shrinking dreams into grocery lists and mortgage payments. Still, Henry kept the suitcase in the top of our bedroom closet. Every few years, he would take it down, oil the leather, and continue reading …