Mason pulled out his phone with trembling hands. “She showed it to me. Told me your dad had picked it out. That it was special. I took a picture because… because it seemed weird at the time, but I didn’t know why.”
He turned the screen toward me.
There was the ring. The exact same ring. In a velvet box, photographed in what looked like Corrine’s bedroom.
The photo was dated December 23rd of the previous year.
Last Christmas.
When my mother was still alive.
When my mother was still baking cookies in the kitchen, still wrapping presents, still making plans for the new year.
When my parents were still married.
When everything was still normal.
