junk promise

I gave my lady a promise ring the other day.  She was excited when I presented it but more so when I told her it was my grandmother's.

It isn't.

The ring is just some junk that I found perusing the street vendors off of Market St.  The ring holds no special meaning to me and holds a grand price of $1.00.

It sits there on her finger bright and shiny as if it was some high end designer piece from Paris.

It will probably turn her finger black for three weeks.  It will devastate her that she can no longer wear my grandmother's ring.  Inside I will smile; outside I will comfort her, tell her it will be ok and then we will have sex.

Life will be great.