True Worth

True Worth

"What's it worth?"

"Does it matter?"

"What?" the vapid blonde gave me a very confused look.

Clearly, she required further explanation.

"Does its value, or whether or not it's real make a difference?" I politely asked.

"Wait! Is it real? Are you saying it's not real?"

She waved her obnoxious long pink nails in my face. The huge rock, which, if real, could feed a small country, sparkled on her ring finger.

I adjusted the cuffs of my silk blouse, and straightened my pearl necklace. It had been a very long day, and I was losing patience with the endless stream of self-absorbed, vacuous, girls who were more interested in their ring, than the guy who gave it to them.

This one, flanked by her mother and another overly perfumed sorority babe, was about to be the proverbial final straw.

I clasped my hands together, rested them on the glass display case, took a deep breathe, and began.

"You have a boyfriend, who decided he wants to be with you forever. He spent days, hours, weeks... trying to find the exact words to express his love for you, to ask you to share his life and be his wife. He stood in front of a mirror, rehearsing the right words for hours. He struggled to find the perfect setting and the perfect day, to create the perfect memory for you, so that the two of you would be able to retell the story to your mother, your friends, and one day your children and grandchildren.

"Yet, despite all this, you've decided to judge his worth, based upon his worth?"

Tears were streaming down the women's faces as they left the store, ashamed that they had questioned the grooms love.

"So it's fake?" my co-worker asked.

"Heck yeah."


297 words