He dropped the sponge into the bucket of hot soapy water. Washing his girlfriend’s car could wait.
He slid into the driver’s seat and picked up the small black velvet box resting on the center console. Strange, he thought. It wasn’t like her to be careless with her jewelry.
He opened it and found a thin band of white gold. A wedding ring. For a man.
He instantly snapped the box closed, cursing himself. Sure, he’d been dragging his feet. Sure, she’d given him plenty of time to propose.
But for her to take matters into her own hands?
Unacceptable.
The Weekday One Hundred 