You had a favorite ring. It was silver, cheap metal and shaped like a star. You wore it every day--in school, outside of school--alongside other rings. It looked cute and pretty on your fingers, and you got many compliments on it. It was a little big for your finger, but you always made sure you held onto it.

One day, you couldn't find it. You figure you dropped it somewhere and just didn't feel it come off. Going back to everywhere you went, you couldn't find your ring anywhere.

The next day, you saw a familiar ring on a boy's right hand finger. Somehow, it fit perfectly on his hand. It was your star ring. You approached the boy, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head around to face you, and you were taken aback on how... cute he was. You started to stammer as you spoke.

Hey, sorry. Where'd you get that ring? You asked with a polite voice.

Oh, I just found it on the floor somewhere. Why? As he responded, his deep and New Jersey-accented voice sent a tingle down your spine. What the hell was happening?

Ah... uh... that's my ring. I-I must have dropped it.

He smiled and pulled the ring off. Sorry about that. He took your hand and slipped the ring back on your finger, making you blush profusely..