It was just a regular day at the post office. Except that when I went in to pick up my deliveries, I found a brutally smashed package that was supposed to be headed to somewhere in Maine. The address was torn; it looked as though it had been left out in the rain. I stuffed it in my pocket and hopped in my mail truck.
It was early morning. With a stretch, I climbed out at the beginning of Gina’s neighborhood to begin my normal route. It was a mindless job; all I had to do was match addresses on the houses to the addresses on the envelopes. Other than that I was free to ponder whatever was on my mind. Mostly, it was Gina.
I went through the neighborhood as was my routine: up one side of a street and down the other side so that I ended up back at the truck and only had to carry minimal amounts of mail.
In the middle of the vicinity was Gina’s house. It was cheery and yellow with two floors lined in six-pane windows with clean black shutters. Oftentimes I would see Gina out front on Saturdays, relaxing on her porch, frequently humming a song that was on the radio. Some days it was a song that had been popular when we were in high school. I wondered if she was reminiscing about our golden days. We were so young and careless. We probably did a lot of stupid things. But we had fun.
Making the trip back to my truck to get the mail for the houses on Gina’s street, I remembered the package that I’d found that morning. I retrieved it from my pocket and looked it over once more before opening the seal and reaching inside. I pulled out a soggy blue velvet ring box. My eyes widened. It was such a shame that someone should lose this package of all things.
Glancing around like I was some kind of criminal before I allowed the box to capture my attention again, I saw that I was alone. Only then did I eagerly open the box and discover the most beautiful ring I had ever set eyes upon. It was silver, or maybe white gold. Clasped tightly between the little palms of the diamond studded band was a single sable pearl.