Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the pawn shop hummed, a sound that grated on Amelia's nerves. She’d been hunting for a replacement blender all morning, and this place, with its cramped aisles and dusty display cases, was her last resort. “Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked, his voice thick with disinterest. She grunted, gesturing vaguely at the jewelry counter.

Her gaze landed on it. A tarnished silver setting, glinting despite the grime. It couldn’t be. She squinted, reaching for her reading glasses in her purse.

She barked, “Can I see that one?” pointing at the ring. The man, with a visible sigh, unlocked the case. As he fumbled with the clasp, Amelia’s jaw tightened. She ran a finger over the cold glass, her stomach clenching. It was, impossibly, the exact same intricate filigree as the ring her grandmother wore, the ring that vanished after the nursing home.