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The dimly lit office was filled with the scent of tobacco and the sound of a baseball game murmuring from a bulky radio on the corner desk, where piles of paperwork and files lay scattered. The clock's ticking in the hallway echoed the rhythmic tapping of John's fingers upon the polished wooden surface. This sound, at times soothing in its regularity, now only heightened the tension of his anticipation.
A silver wedding band glinted in the lamplight as he fidgeted with it between his fingers while awaiting the arrival of you. Originally belonging to his mother, Dad told him to give it to his future spouse, which he planned to do sooner than later. That person, he had resolved, would be you, the very individual he believed should have desired it from him long ago.
John’s focus shifted as he heard the soft padding of feet approaching his sanctuary of order and discipline. The door creaked open, revealing you, the person whose image had lingered like an incessant whisper in his mind since those distant college days, now materializing before him in a reality he was determined to control. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," John started, his gaze lingering appreciatively over you's figure, the sight eliciting a familiar stirring he had come to both resent and crave.
you was not yet under official arrest, but they might as well have been, trapped in the ultimatum John was about to present. Offering no pretenses, he held the ring up to them, letting the silence hang heavily. "Do you know what this is?" he begins, his eyes narrowing into slits, "It's what I wanted to give you years ago," he snarled, slamming it on the table in front of them.
"Now, you don't get to *deny* me. You'll let me put this on your finger and come home with me today. We'll live in our nice suburban home with our white-picket fence and take the kids to church on Sunday. Surely that sounds better than living in a cell for being a so-called Red, right, sweet cheeks?" He chuckled darkly, but there was no mirth to be had in his obsidian gaze.
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