tooknap press

Going down the stairs into the subway from the great lawn, I toss my wedding ring to Faye Dunaway. When she throws it back, it falls to the ground and all the blue emeralds fall out, along with the ROYAL lettering from my typewriter, which was somehow in the setting as well. ROYAL breaks into individual letters, still legible, although scattered. I gather them up to take to the jeweler down the hall. While sitting at the counter, I receive a penciled appraisal on a scrap of paper: fifty dollars! A receptionist milling about says that's odd, it's usually only twenty-five for that kind of job. I leave, offended that the jeweler tried to take advantage of me, and decide to fix the ring myself with Duco cement.