Rings and dresses

A boy is coming to get the rings and the dresses. He's coming all the way from Brooklyn, New York, but considering the distance all this stuff has already traveled, this is not far at all. These rings, they are quite old-fashioned. A purple stone in a bulky gold setting, and a simple gold band, woven sort of like a beehive. She had worn them till the day she died, and they had to pry them off her swollen white fingers. This was in Khabarovsk, and now they've traveled to St. Petersburg, Frankfurt, Palermo, and San Francisco, and the boy is coming for them from Brooklyn. The dresses, too. Summer crepe de chine decorated with wild roses and white daisies thrown against the pitch-black background. The kind of pattern that was mass produced once but will never be reproduced. She loved the dresses and willed them to her daughter, and now the boy is coming to get them. I wonder what he thinks about this errand.