Gemotions

The grimy windows of the pawn shop made the outside world seem distant. Emily, restless and on edge, felt a frantic impatience as she scanned the cluttered displays. The dust motes danced in the dim light, and her vision was almost too sharp, too detailed. She needed to know. She needed to see it, to confirm.

She ran her hand through her hair, a gesture of nervous habit. The feeling that had been churning inside her since dawn was growing stronger. She circled the counter, her movements jerky. A cold sweat was forming on her palms.

And there it was. The ring. The emerald. The familiar shape. Her breath caught, a gasp escaping her lips. Everything seemed to sharpen; the sounds, the smells, the dust. She felt a surge of energy she didn’t know she possessed. She approached the counter, her eyes fixed.