You Are Worth More

Lucerne, 1960. Trude Stein spent her lunch breaks alone at a small metal table behind the printing shop. The street smelled of ink, bread, and diesel, and she stirred her tea with her Rolex spoon while daydreaming of a job that didn’t drain her spirit dry. The spoon glinted defiantly against the dull-grey afternoon. She heard church bells ring across the rooftops and felt something shift inside her — a gentle, insistent nudge. She walked straight back into the building and applied for work somewhere better. Now fashioned into a ring, it holds the moment she realised she was worth more — and she is better for it.