I would like to say that I noticed the ring

in the display right away, but I know now that it had recognized me first. After all, the ring’s features were not displayed in any special way that would catch the attention of shoppers. In fact, it was turned slightly around, as if somewhat shy. An old yellowed price tag half-covered it, suggesting it had been ignored by all but the rare Scottish sunlight for years. But I was unable to take my eyes away, somehow held by its power.

The wooden door of the Royal Mile Antique Collection creaked as I opened it, my arms straining with effort. The shop smelled of the familiar aroma of most places in Edinburgh—mold and whisky. The dark interior revealed several open-shelved cabinets displaying mismatched teacups, whisky glasses, and various jewelry items. A small ray of light from the door in the back was making dust dance over the displays, and I moved toward it with hope.