Gemotions

The moment he walked into the dimly lit store, the world seemed to tilt. The metallic smell of the place, the haphazard arrangement of objects, sent his head swimming. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it plastered to his forehead. He couldn't quite seem to focus his vision.

“What can I do for ya?” The gruff voice of the shop owner pulled him up short. He had to appear calm, collected, in control. He fumbled for a piece of paper in his pocket, the crinkle of the worn material sounding abnormally loud.

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat constricting. He pointed at the ring in the faded photo. "I'm looking for this." His voice sounded thin, reedy, nothing like the confident man he usually presented to the world. A cold dread seeped into his limbs.