Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the shadows clinging to everything. Clara had wandered in, ostensibly looking for a cheap necklace for her sister's birthday. But her gaze was drawn, inexplicably, to a small, velvet-lined box. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded silk, lay a familiar ring.

A gasp escaped her. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her legs felt weak, as if the blood had drained from them. The delicate, antique setting, the tiny sapphires… it was Grandmère's. The ring she’d always said was her luck piece.

“Anything catch your eye, sweetheart?” the burly man behind the counter asked, his voice rough. She found herself unable to speak. She just pointed, her finger trembling.