Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the pawn shop hummed, amplifying the tremor in Leo’s hands. He clutched the worn photograph tighter, the crease down the middle a familiar valley of regret. His grandmother, her smile radiant, stared back at him from the faded paper. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking at the glint of gold and diamonds behind the dusty glass. He knew the ring. He’d seen it on her hand his whole life.

He avoided the pawn broker’s gaze, focusing on the chipped linoleum floor. The man’s bored indifference felt like an accusation. His throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe. He imagined his grandmother, a woman of grace and unwavering faith, finding out. The thought brought a flush of heat to his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough and foreign to his ears. "How much?" he managed to croak out, the words barely audible above the clatter of the shop.