The Ring on the Counter

I found my grandmother's wedding ring in my new apartment yesterday. That's impossible

because she was buried with it thirty years ago. I moved in last week and it was

just sitting on the bathroom counter, tarnished and cold. I called my mom, voice shaking,

and she went silent. Then she whispered something that made my blood freeze. This apartment building

was constructed on the old cemetery grounds. They relocated most graves but some

families never claimed their dead. My grandmother was one of them. I'm holding her

ring right now and it's warm. The bathroom door just locked from the inside.

I live alone.