I crack open the cookie and inside isn't a fortune, but an advertisement. Outrage! It reads:

"Down on your luck? Call 450-969-3049 for your free introductory fortune telling!"

No fortune!? Rip off. I toss the slip of paper on my dirty plate and aggressively crush the cookie pieces on top of it. It seems the fates are against me. Now I’m not even getting the reliable comfort of a fortune at the end of a meal. I look around the room. There are 2 other occupied tables. One with two women deep in conversation near the window. They are smiling and very animated. They are dressed nicely as though they are on their lunch break, but it is 2:00 p.m. They either got a late start or have lost track of time. Deeper in the restaurant is an older couple eating in comfortable silence. And then there's me. I sit in the middle of the restaurant, alone, hair a mess, wearing clothes which are more comfortable than attractive. But I chose this. I could have gotten my food to-go. But I thought getting out and being among people would be better for me.

"You can't hide here forever. Go out, live life!" I had said.

Hmpf. Maybe I wasn't ready.

I poke at the cookie crumbs and pick up the "fortune" again. Rip off. Even so, the word "free" piques my interest. Why is it free? What's the catch? I put the scrap of paper in my vest pocket and walk out of the restaurant into the blinding sun. Cars are buzzing by and people are walking along the sidewalk as though on a mission. I fall into step to head back home.

The darkness of my apartment instantly calms me and depresses me at the same time. I cross the room and open the blinds halfway in hopes of making a compromise between my emotions. I flop down on the couch and take out my phone with a deep sigh. I take out the slip of paper and dial without hesitating further. What do I have to lose? The line picks up with some pleasant piano music followed quickly by an cheery female voice speaking over it. "Thank you for calling Fortunes by Design! Please listen carefully as our menu options have changed. Press 1 for your daily fortune. Press 2 for your one month outlook. Press 3 for your one year outlook. Press 5 for your extended outlook. And if you received an offer for a free fortune, press 9. To repeat these options, please press pound." I hesitate slightly before pressing 9. What happened to option 4? My phone is silent for a few moments. Long enough that I begin to think the call has dropped. But then then a quiet female answers:

"Lydia, is that you?"

My throat catches for a moment. Either she really is clairvoyant or she really knows how to work the caller ID system. I give an uncertain

"Yes?"

"Finally. We've been a bit worried. We need to get you activated as soon as possible so we can get moving."

"Activated?" I don't understand."

"Oh, sorry. I'm just so relieved it's finally you. Just go get your ring and it will all come back to you"

"My ring?"

"Yes, you know, your special ring? The one that has the most meaning to you? It's different for everyone, but you must know which one I'm talking about?"

"I do have a special ring, but don't lots of people?"

"Yes, that's the point. Now please go get your ring."

I could tell her patience was wearing thin, so I drag myself off the couch with another heavy sigh and walk into my bedroom, switching the phone to speaker as I walk.

"I thought I was calling in for a free fortune." I stated, matching her irritation.

"Just get the ring." she replies pointedly.

"Fine!" I say, with exasperation.

I pick up the small paper mache box I'd had forever. It was painfully out-of-date with a light blue collage of Victorian-era images randomly splayed across it. I open the hinged top and begin to use my index finger to dig through the small bits of ephemera accumulated thus far in my life. I hesitate when I see the button from our first date, but keep digging to find the ring. I pick it up carefully and feel the rush of warmth, fondness, and comfort come over me.

"OK. I've got the ring. Now what?"

"We'll you've got to put it on Lydia, come on, work with me here!"

"Excuse me? Just who are you again? Why are you asking about my grandmother's ring?"

"Just put the damn ring on!"

"But it doesn't even fit me! I never wear this ring!"

"Put on the ring Lydia! NOW!"

"FINE!" I yell, matching her exasperation.

I gingerly begin to put the ring on my right pinkie knowing it will only go about three quarters on before becoming too tight. But something odd happens. The ring fits perfectly. It's as though the ring grew bigger at the same time my finger became thinner. I feel an odd twinge in my right hand followed by an intense wave of pain through my arm as though I had just put my pinkie in an electrical socket. I yell out, but the pain begins subsiding very quickly. As it does, memories come flooding back to my brain like a tidal wave. My memories, but not my memories at the same time. As though someone was downloading another lifetime onto my brain.