Gemotions

The cold bit at Maria's exposed skin as she hurried down the street. The pawn shop’s doorway, with its peeling paint and barred window, felt like a gate to a place she desperately wanted to avoid. The ring, now safely tucked away in her coat pocket, felt like a burning coal against her skin.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not her mother, not her sister. The silence was a heavy shroud, suffocating her. She should have done better. She should have known better.

Inside, the dim light made the dust motes dance in the air, mocking her. The shopkeeper, a man with a perpetually skeptical expression, examined the ring with a magnifying glass. The weight of his scrutiny seemed to press down on her.

"What's the story?" he asked, his voice flat.

Maria swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to budge.