Here’s a 300-word draft for your story:
I had been in the hospital for two days, recovering from a minor surgery. My mind was groggy from the medication, but as I reached for the water cup on my bedside table, something caught my eye. A flash of silver. A familiar charm dangling from a bracelet. My bracelet.
My heart pounded. I had lost that bracelet a month ago—searched everywhere, turned my apartment inside out, retraced my steps a hundred times. Eventually, I had given up, assuming it had slipped off somewhere, never to be seen again. Yet, here it was, wrapped around the wrist of the nurse adjusting my IV line.
I swallowed hard. “That’s a beautiful bracelet,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She glanced down at it and smiled. “Oh, thank you! I found it a few weeks ago.”
“Where?” I asked, my throat dry.
“In the hospital parking lot. No one claimed it, so I kept it.” She shrugged. “It felt like fate.”
Fate. That word stung. That bracelet had been a gift from my late grandmother, something I never took off—until I lost it. My pulse quickened as I considered my options. Should I accuse her? Demand it back? Call security?
Instead, I took a deep breath. “It’s mine,” I said gently. “It was a gift from my grandmother. I lost it last month.”
Her eyes widened. For a long moment, she hesitated. Then, without argument, she unfastened the clasp and placed it in my palm.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
I exhaled, my fingers curling around the familiar metal. “Thank you.”
I didn’t need an apology. I just needed my bracelet back—and now, finally, I had it.
Would you like me to tweak the ending or add more details?
