“We gather here today to lay Ada Yardley to rest. A soul burdened with too great a pain for this world.” The reverend’s imperious tone grated at me, the ache in my jaw a welcome distraction from his words. Ada’s mother, Misses Yardley, released a long, cold breath beside me, the spindling white air a ghost of her quiet suffering.

“Winnifred,” and my heart began to race, that she put her cool hand so lightly upon my cheek. That I saw some shade of what I thought might be sadness in her eyes, “I wish I could say that there would never come a time when you find the world is much larger than what is at your fingertips, but I’m afraid that time is already upon us.”

I knew exactly what I would offer him, heart racing at the idea of giving it away. Of what it might feel like in someone else’s hands. It didn’t come off right away. Tugged at my skin as I twisted it. The look on my mother’s face when she saw it’s gone... I pulled harder, knowing I lost a layer of skin over my knuckle. So when a brush of cold touched the skin of my neck, I thought the pain must be why. He startled when I slammed the ring on his counter, unaware of my claim to victory.