The Rings On My Fingers

A beautiful story about accepting oneself and loving it.



“Those sure are a lot of rings,” the Subway employee said warmly, gesturing to the ring-covered fingers frantically rooting through my wallet in search of my debit card. I smiled back at him. “Any reason why you wear so many?” I extended my fingers and looked down at my hands for a moment before responding with a laugh, “It’s a long story.”

Prior to this interaction, I had just missed my train, which is way more typical than it should be. I busted out of the cold and into this little restaurant like a crazy person. “Please tell me you have coffee,” were the words I filled the empty room with, still out of breath, laughing and carrying my bags. After talking with the guy behind the counter for a good while, I ran on to the late train, where I made four new friends, including the Amtrak employee with…

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