The slight wear along one edge.

The small marks from years of ordinary work.

The shape of the band against my hand.

For forty years, it had appeared beside coffee cups, on steering wheels, around the handles of tools, and against my own fingers.

I had seen it when Patrick was happy, tired, distracted, and asleep.

Now it was separate from him.

Samantha had told me he wore it into the cremation arrangements.

She said she had seen it on his finger.