Gemotions

The bell above the door jangled, a discordant sound that made her jump. She clutched her purse closer, her fingers digging into the worn leather. The air in the pawn shop was thick with the smell of dust and something else, something metallic and indefinable, that made her head swim.

She recognized the ring instantly. Her grandmother's, no doubt about it. The way the light caught the facets, the delicate filigree work – it was a ghost of a touch, a whisper of a life lived. The walls seemed to be closing in.

“Can I help you?” The shop owner's voice sliced through the silence, making her start. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape.

She stammered, unsure of what to say. The world seemed to be narrowing, focusing only on that glittering circle. She took a step backward, then another, the floorboards creaking under her weight.