With This Ring

The tiny yellow plane moved across the blue sky.

"Over to the left a little," Randy yelled to the pilot. "I want to get a good shot of the pool."

The plane eased left, lining up with the red roof of a house at the end of the cul-de-sac, Randy’s house, the one Janice was taking away from him in the divorce.

"That’s great," Randy said. "Hold her steady."

He lifted the camera strap from around his neck, leaned toward the window, and unhooked his safety belt. He looked down and waited. When the trajectory seemed about right, he forced open the door, grinned over his shoulder at the wide-eyed pilot, and stepped into the sky.

Randy fell away from the plane and the rushing air brought tears to his eyes but he could still see he was going to overshoot his house. He tried a few backstrokes. Useless. He thought of his wife in the house without him after 17 years of marriage. With this ring I thee wed meant nothing. He stuck his finger in his mouth and tried to get the ring off. But it was still on his finger when he slammed into a stranger’s driveway three blocks away from his own.

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Barry Basden  Barry Basden's website lives in the Texas hill country with his wife and two yellow Labs. He writes mostly short pieces. Some have been published in various online and print venues. Some have not. He edits Camroc Press Review.