The cold really shrinks my fingers. I'd deduced it fell off into a snowbank, after I tore my house apart once I realized it wasn't on my finger. Part of me expected to find it when I moved six months later. I'd had some drinks the night I lost it, and, not being a stranger to losing things and terrified of having to relive the pain of losing it again in the morning, I scrawled myself a note on the chalkboard in the kitchen thinking I could ease into it.