He was an expert driver in that sporty car slung so low. He had a lead foot when he was in a temper, and she clung to the seat in wild eyed fright. He shook his fist right in her face, the ring grasped tight inside. Once a symbol of love, now tarnished and bitter. Squealing around and around the roundabout he slung the ring out the autos open top. It sailed across the blue sky, glittering brightly in a high arc, landing extinguished in the grass. A tiny *** of lost gold at the end of their wrecked rainbow. She saw everything so clearly now it was as if she had acquired preternatural vision.