My wedding ring is the symbol of a marriage which began seven years ago today. The room was nearly empty: two witnesses, six smiles.
Not because it's endless - that's a cliché, did you expect me to say that? No, it's not about its shape but because of how it looks.
The outside, once shiny, is now matte, scuffed by all my knocks, accidents and mistakes, seven years of accumulated clumsiness.
But when I look, the inside, the side closest to my pulse, still gleams exactly as it did that cold day when my life began: perfect, pristine, incapable of disappointment.