Attic
Bleak attic. The rain hammers against the glass windows. It was chilly, but his panic got him steamy. His footsteps echoed as he searched for the one thing he might have lost. His love. Okay, it was not his love that he was searching for in a dusty box - but a token of it. A wedding ring. He thought his husband abandoned him years ago without saying a word. The truth was now revealed.
His husband never had a chance to say goodbye. He was taken. Or murdered. The details are not sure whether he is still alive. It all lies within the ring. A furry nose may follow the scent that once held that ring. He hopes to find his long-lost love. How does one start to love again the person he hated after all that caused pain. He tried. Among all the buried memories, he searched for that one ring.
Under postcards, signed photos, cobwebs. There were so many hidden objects packed and stored years ago. They were all forgotten. Like the memories of when they started dating, and that romantic phase before getting married. It was all gone. It wasn't, but it needed a good clean-up to be revived. A good wash, a polish. There is still a chance for that phase to be rekindled, for the frames to beam in the sunlight. There is still hope - if he finds that wedding ring that he tossed away. Was it still running somewhere?
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