Gemotions

The humid air of the pawn shop hung thick around Clara as she scanned the glass cases. Her pulse ticked fast, a frantic drum against her ribs. She smoothed down her already perfect ponytail, her fingers flying over the smooth strands. Each glint of reflected light from the jewelry held her gaze for a stretched moment. It had been years since her grandmother's passing, years since she’d seen the ring. A cold dread crept into her gut as she pictured it, the emerald, a perfect drop of green.

She saw the glint of something familiar. Squinting, she leaned closer. Her breath caught. The setting was the same. The band, the tiny filigree. Her hands trembled, and she pressed them to the cool glass. The emerald. There it was. Her breath hitched, and she felt a prickle of sweat on her forehead.

“Can I help you, miss?” The shop owner's voice sliced through the tension. She jumped, her shoulders tensing, and her mouth opened, words lost somewhere behind her racing pulse. She just pointed, unable to form anything coherent.