(no subject)

[livinginanhgwellsnovel]

It had been everything she had ever wanted when she was a girl. She had spent hours gazing at it on her mother's dressing table, or sparkling on her mother's slender fingers. She'd coveted the delicate ring with the gleaming red stone, but in the end it had been passed to Cora when her son married the rich American girl.

Violet had not held onto the hope of acquiring the ring. She had hardly thought of it in years although it had been her everything once. She had wished for it one Christmas, but it had not been until several decades of Christmases passed that it had finally become hers in the most unlikely of places. Shut in on the station one winter day, she had opened a small box, not nearly as elaborate as the ones holding a succession of sweets had been, and found the ring inside.

But what God gave, God could also take away, and Violet woke that morning to find no trace of the ring. She could not recall when she'd last seen it, although she had been wearing it almost constantly. She searched her room first, and then with no success, began to retrace her steps through the station.

[Find her anywhere around the station frantic and tired out from searching. Help, mock, or whatever seems appropriate.]