Ten years, and the band slid off my knuckle without any argument at all.

I set it on the counter first, beside the soap dish, and it sat there like a coin somebody had put down and forgotten.

Then I opened the drawer and pushed it behind the folded washcloths.

Nobody in that house used the folded washcloths.

The drawer shut with a click that made me hold still and listen.

Nothing.

The television laughed at something.

I smoothed lotion over the pale strip of skin where the ring had been.