symbol_of_a_pattern pony Thunderclouds rolled in as my rage began to boil. "Have a heart," he said, "it's a family heirloom." All this talk of we, all the fallacy in "mutual", it made me sick right down to the ulcer in my stomach. Rain came down like bile, the gods tossed bowling balls and I flew like a struck pin. Furiously typing, the audacity was almost too much to bear and I laid my soul, weeping, at the thought of a request to give back what robbed me of so much. Endless life, stretching like stars around a metal band. Passed through generations as an inanimate lie, unbending and unfeeling like the tongue of silver men. It was born of broken promises and given in bad faith. Maybe I didn't want to keep the ring after all. But he really shouldn't have asked. 240307 what's it to you? who go blather from