The other day, a friend of mine handed me a delicate-looking ring.

"Look what I found," she said.

"That's nice," I said. "Where'd you find it?"

"I found it in the bathroom at the mall. No one picked it up all day, so I took it."

"It doesn't look very expensive. They were probably not that worried about it."

"Do you want it?" she asked. "You can keep it."

"Really? Thanks!" I slid the ring onto my finger and admired how nice the thin band looked.

I have been wearing the ring for about four days now, but it was only about five minutes ago that I noticed the band was split. Toe rings are often split so that they have a bit of give when you are walking.

You know what this means, don't you? I have been wearing some unknown person's TOE RING that they left in a PUBLIC WASHROOM at the mall ON MY FINGER, a finger on a hand that I EAT with.

I am going to go inspect myself for signs of the Coxsackie virus now, gargle some bleach, and say ew about eleventy billion times.

Grace In Small Things: Part 168 of 365

Grace In Small Things: Part 167 of 365