Found: wedding band in parking spot near intersection of Webster and Clybourn, please call to claim. 709.284.1290.
Lost: The way you could tell she was a Mrs. just by looking at her hand. The worry stone she spun round and around her finger when she was nervous. The noisemaker she idly banged against the sweaty beer bottles she drank from on Sunday afternoons, while sitting in the backyard and watching Jake teach her son how to throw a football. The talisman that had promised “yours forever, Jake”, when forever had really only lasted four and a half years. The downy warmth of burying her nose in the nape of his sleeping neck to smell him: skin and sweat and Pantene. Someone to sort the mail for her: magazines, junk and bills. Someone to praise her misadventures in cooking. Someone to laugh with, to hold her when she cried. Someone to tell her that the chicken pox scar on her ribs that she hated so much was his favorite part of her to kiss. The thing that made her married girlfriends stop looking at her with that annoying mix of curiosity and pity. The thing that made her a we, instead of an I. The thing that allowed her to believe that even though she was neurotic and too talkative, and only a 34A, that there was still a man who wanted her. Her sense of safety, of wonderfully beautiful permanence, all lost as quickly as a small something thrown carelessly, heedlessly, from one’s fingers out a car window. The thing she wishes she had back. Reward available for any information leading to discovery. 313.794.6272.