Gemotions

The humid air of the pawn shop seemed to press in on Clara. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she squinted at the display case. There, nestled amongst tarnished trinkets and broken watches, was it. The ring. Her grandmother’s engagement ring, the one she’d always shown off, the one that had vanished after her passing. A shiver ran down her spine, a prickling sensation that made her want to retreat, to vanish.

“Can I help you, miss?” The shopkeeper’s voice, gravelly and indifferent, snapped her out of her stupor. He was leaning forward, watching her with a curious gaze. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.

“Uh, yes,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I’d like to see that ring.” Her finger trembled as she pointed. Each step towards the counter felt like wading through molasses.