I stood in the hotel lobby, beginning my reflection in the glass doors.
Dinner was quieter than usual. By the time dessert arrived, I finally felt like I could breathe again. Then, Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Slowly, I set my fork down.
“Is this… from your mother?”
“No. This is actually from me.”
Inside was a stunning ring.
“My gift for you is back home.”
Thomas leaned in, smirking. “Is it another cake?”
“No. But if you ever go on a business trip on our anniversary again… Then yes. But it won’t have frosting.
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Just sold a mattress to someone but now they want a refund, saying there’s mold. I don’t feel like it’s mold. What should I do?
