Gemotions

The grimy bell above the pawn shop door chimed as Amelia entered, the sound echoing in the stale air. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was just browsing, really. A distraction from the looming mountain of bills on her kitchen table. The display case, a dusty rectangle, held a jumble of tarnished trinkets. Then she saw it. A delicate platinum band, a cluster of diamonds sparkling like captured starlight. She knew that ring.

Her breath hitched. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself, her knuckles white. *No*, she thought, *it couldn't be.* That ring. The one her grandmother, Evelyn, had cherished for over sixty years.

“Can I help you, miss?” the clerk, a man with a bored expression, asked, leaning forward. His voice felt miles away. Amelia pointed a trembling finger at the ring. “That… that one.” Her voice cracked.