Gemotions

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as she traced the familiar curves of the ring with a trembling finger. The setting, the slightly worn band – everything matched the description her mother had given her countless times. Her grandmother’s ring. The one she’d lost, or had it been stolen, years ago?

She felt a sudden, urgent need to sit down. She stumbled back, bumping into a rack of dusty guitars. The metallic clang echoed in the small space, adding to the growing sense of unreality.

"How much?" she croaked, her voice barely audible above the ringing in her ears. The shopkeeper, a woman with a severe bun and a bored expression, simply pointed to a price tag: "$300."