Gemotions

He stared at the small, velvet box in his hand. The ring inside, a delicate filigree design with a tiny diamond, was undeniably his grandmother’s. He remembered the stories, the way she’d always taken it off before washing dishes. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

He sank down onto the cracked plastic chair outside the shop, the gritty pavement cold against his back. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture failing to provide any comfort. The city noise, the honking cars and chattering voices, seemed to amplify the silence in his head.

He closed his eyes, replaying the scene in his mind. The cold, impersonal counter. The shopkeeper’s indifferent gaze. How could this be?