I stared at the man as he scratched away at his finger, psychotically rubbing against every part of their skin along it. In fact, I noticed every single small detail due to the amount of attention I was providing to his vicinity. Every time their hair was brushed by their breath. Every time the front of their foot collided with the floor as they furiously tapped against it. Every tear that rolled out of their eye and hit against their knee, staining their fading jeans.
After hours of conversation, we hugged. It wasn’t his fault after all. Straight away, with a burst of energy, I leapt to my drawers and started clambering through them, analysing every section of its contents. It took a while, but I found it, and I brought it to the man.
I handed him over a ring, to replace the one he had lost, telling him it was a resemblance of our friendship. An attempt to stop them from rubbing the place on their finger from where their last one was. He smiled