Ruby

He is offering her everything she ever wanted.

Everything.

It is encapsulated in the gold band he holds out expectantly to her, the one which is symmetrically set with ten precision cut diamonds, not too many, nor too few. He feels sure and certain that she will take it - it is all she has ever wanted, after all - and when she does, his heart can stop beating so violently in his swelling chest.

She wants it.

But there is something else which catches her eye.

A ruby.

It is just a rock, not cut nor styled by expert hands, not mounted in gold or scattered across the circumference of a bracelet and yet, it has the kind of rugged, ragged, indecipherable charm which she finds it impossible to resist.

She wants that ruby, though what status or guarantee it will furnish her with is questionable, to say the least. She does not know how she will wear it, what she will do with it.

But the scarlet inside her does not care - to hold it in her hand, for however long or short a time, may be enough.