The bedroom was a mess: gaping holes knocked through crumbling plaster, sun-faded carpets peeled right back. I knew what she was looking for, and she wasn’t going anywhere without him – the new owners would just need to wait.
As we searched together, a large, jagged knot in one of the recently exposed floorboards caught my eye. I kneeled down and peered into the gloom. Even after all these years, lost, presumed swallowed by a vacuum, the thin band of gold still shone brightly – to mum, as bright as the day she’d placed it nervously over her handsome groom’s finger.
‘We can leave now,’ she smiled, as her wrinkled, dust-covered hands cradled the ring.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.