If you happen to find a diamond in the Toronto Island airport, it is probably mine. Can you let me know?
I was heartsick when I looked down at my ring as I made my way to my seat on the airplane and saw that my stone was missing. I told the flight attendant, then retraced my steps as far back as I was allowed to, searching for a glint or sparkle on the floor. When I didn’t find it immediately, I knew my chances were slim to none of ever getting it back, but I reported it missing to every phone number and email address I could gather.
Tony and I were still grad students when he proposed to me sixteen years ago. He borrowed the money from his sister to pay for the ring.
I would really like my diamond back.