An early morning walk on my own along the beach was a secret guilty pleasure that I did not want to share with anyone, even my wife. While out this morning, on the shoreline of the retreating tide, I found a small tin rusted shut. It rattled when shook, so I brought it home and took it into the shed where I prised off the lid with a chisel.
Inside was a bracelet, a solid band of copper or bronze, on the inside surface of which I could make out some lettering. I wiped away some surface dust with a rag and read aloud the words inscribed: “I am the truth - the circle of righteousness - speak no falsehood - deceive no man or woman”
Fair enough, I thought, and tried the band for size, finding I could just about slip my hand through the loop. At that moment, the shed door opened, and my wife poked her head inside.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at my arm. “Where did you get it?”
I hesitated, knowing I had kept quiet about my early morning beach walks. “I got it in the charity shop last week,” I said. As I spoke the bracelet tightened ever so slightly. “I got it for you,” I continued. The pressure on my wrist grew.
“Let me see,” she said.
“I can’t take it off,” I said, truly, realising that from now on not only would honesty be the best policy, but the only option.
[A two-hundred-and-fifty-word
story -15 February 2024]
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