He places the ring inside. It fits perfectly. Clicks it shut.

Behind him, a shelf groans. Something shifts.
He freezes.

Listens.

Then,

“Didn’t think anyone’d still be stupid enough to come here,” a voice says.

What happens next? What do you think so far?

#booksky

Instead, he sets down his pack and unzips it carefully. Gently, reverently, he pulls out a small velvet box, the kind you only ever saw in the hand of someone on one knee. Or on old movie screens, before.

The fabric’s ruined. The hinge a little rusted.
But it still opens.

#booksky

Not bones.
A mannequin’s hand.

He huffs out a shaky breath, then chuckles under it. Sheepish. Reaches in again, slower this time, and lifts the hand.

On one stiff finger: a ring.

Not flashy. Not gold. Just a dull silver band. Simple. Solid.

He stares at it a long time.

Doesn’t take it. Not yet.

Something rattles in the back.

He holds his breath. Reaches in, ready to be bitten. But still, hopeful.

Fingers brush something smooth. Cold.

Then, a hand.

He yanks back, heart kicking, and whips the flashlight down into the drawer.

#booksky

A jewelry counter looms at the back. Glass spiderwebbed. Dust thick on the surface. Undisturbed.

He crouches. Quiet. Deliberate. Like the right thing might vanish if he moves too fast.

Pulls open a drawer.

Empty.

Then a second one.

#booksky

Plastic bears with water-damaged fur. Mugs that say “#1 Dad” in faded print. Half a scented candle, crusted with mildew. It looks like a memorial now. A place people used to come to feel better about things.

He keeps going. Deeper into the building.
#booksky

Shelves stand crooked, half-collapsed, bloated with rot or picked clean. Floor tiles curl at the edges. A distant buzzing, maybe a dying battery. Maybe flies.

He moves from aisle to aisle, scanning labels. Not looking for food. Not medicine. Just... looking.

Then comes the gift section.

#booksky

He clicks on one of his prized possessions.
A flashlight.

The beam wobbles, then steadies, narrow and yellow, but strong. He exhales. A good battery is worth more than a knife these days.

Dust hangs in the air like slow-moving fog.

#booksky

Yes!!

Like a phrase that they always say to each other and the other responds the same. "I love you." "I love you more." Then later in the story you find out why.

Love it! I try to put these moments in.

Same!! It all stems from wanting to entertain and feeling joy when they found it enjoyable!

I feel this animation. Much of my family was behind me but it seemed everyone else in my life was this.

It's so great!! I love watching them grow.

Those are amazing! I have those too!

I know right?! It's amazing!

I think we are always our toughest critic though. At least I am mine.