It's a story too good not to remember, too good to make up. Yet her son
says he doesn't remember. There is no confirming it since she died. She who loved red lipstick, lit cigarette from cigarette,who loved big jewelry. At that fancy Detroit restaurant, now long closed, with valet parking, and long-stemmed roses in the entrance, she took off a ring to wash her hands and forgot it. Distraught, she called them later but it was gone. Years later,vacationing in Florida, she noticed a ring like hers on someone's hand, and asked. Surprised, the woman gave it back
Head Over Writing about 7 years ago
I'm loving your "true stories told as fiction". This one is really poignant too.