Ring

“No,” she said.
He reached across the table for her hand and tried to slide the ring on.
She pulled her hand out of his.
“No,” she said again.
They sat for a while. Neither touched their wine or spaghetti.
People at other tables tried not to stare, but they did.
She was the first to leave.
He waited a bit before he got up and left.
“No charge,” whispered the maitre’d.
He nodded, and got into his car.
“They bought it?” she asked.
He nodded, grinning.
“Good. Now give me my ring back. And don’t forget your wallet again.”