Chris Harper, widow and father of one

It all started on a dreary January afternoon when Chris Harper left the office to go grab lunch at a local deli. The moment he pulled into the strip mall, he was accosted by a mysterious woman, calling from across the park lot.

"You there! Sir! Come here! I have something very special for you!"

Trying not to make eye contact, Chris peaked out of the corner of his eye, finding a small booth at the edge of the mall, just past the grocers. The booth looked less like it belonged here and more like it would be at home at a flea market. A very shitty, sketchy flea market. Chris continued to ignore the booth and it's proprietress, heading to the deli, moving a bit faster than he normally would.

But the strange woman would not let up

"I am speaking to you, Mr. Chris Harper."

That got his attention. Slowly, Chris came to a stop and turned to look at the woman. She was wearing a high-peaked hoodie that hung loosely on her body, the hood shadowing all of her facial features, but Chris could somehow tell she was smiling at him with both face and eyes.

With much hesitancy, he approached her. "How... how do you know who I am? Have we met?"

"We have not, sir." The woman's voice was deep and exotic, possessing an accent (or a mélange of one) that Chris could not place. "But I do know much of you. Forty-four years of age. Married at twenty-five, with your daughter turning eighteen later this month. A professional stock broker, you struck it rich while you were young and have been well-off since. Unfortunately, you are a recent victim of tragedy, your wife passing away after a long battle with cancer, leaving behind you and Shay, your daughter."

Chris' breath hitched in his chest. Okay, this was already strange to begin with, being accosted by a ratty stranger who knew his name. But to be this intimate with his personal life? Alarms were going off and his brain was telling him to beat a hasty retreat.

Before he could though, the stranger spoke up again. "But, however hard your beloved Becca's passing was to you, it has been harder on dear, sweet Shay. She has grown dreadfully depressed and reclusive, hiding away from the world, her friends, even her dutiful father. You deeply worry for the poor dear..."

That was... all true. Better yet, it was shockingly accurate. Becca, Chris' wife, had been battling ovarian cancer for many years, finally succumbing to it almost a year ago. It hurt him, but he knew it devastated Shay. His sweet, cheerful daughter was distraught and basically became a shut-in. It was a miracle he was able to convince her to attend school this year but, outside of attending her classes, all she did was sulk in her room. Chis worried for the worse about his daughter. That, maybe, her depression was so great, he might lose her like he lost Becca.

Gulping, Chris felt his heart rate rise. He was blanching and sweating. Trying to steady himself, he stood up against the edge of the booth, as close to the vagrant as he could, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. "How do you know about all of this?"

Violet eyes greeted him from beneath the hood, twinkling. "Because I do. What you should be asking is, 'what can I do to help my daughter'?"

A mix of anxiety and dread caused Chris to absent-mindedly mumble, "I don't know..." He and Shay had a great relationship, he thought, but when it came to a young woman suffering like she was, Chris was at a lost. He hated to admit it, but he was the parent there for the "good times"; Becca was always the one to console her when things went bad.

With uncanny speed, the woman seized one of Chris' hands, placing a small object in it. "This will be your key. Your daughter and her happiness are your greatest desire, I can see that. So... the ring will give it to you. Grant all of your wishes for your daughter without anything in return. I only wish the best for her and for you."

Chris pulled his hand away, finding a silver ring resting in it's palm, a small violet gemstone resting on it's face. Inscribed along the thin band were a series of letters, "ASWNASW", which seemed like cryptic nonsense to him.

He was about to tell the woman off for digging into his trauma and then offering him magic beans, when Chris looked up to find...nothing. The woman and the booth were gone in the time it took him to look down and examine the ring. A shiver ran down his spine. The ring felt suspiciously warm in his hand.

But, Chris had little time to gawk or question the strange happenings of this afternoon. Up ahead, the clouds rumbled angrily, a sudden downpour falling from the heavens, heavy rain drops rhythmically striking everything in the vicinity.

Cursing, Chris pocketed the ring and ran for cover, remembering his was on his lunch break and quickly forgetting about the strange woman and her gift.