Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the pawn shop window felt overly bright, almost mocking. James had always hated pawn shops, the sadness, and the secrets they held. He ran his hand through his already messy hair, a nervous habit. The air was thick with the weight of lost things, a tangible presence that made him want to bolt for the door.

He’d come to find it, of course. His grandfather’s ring. The one his mother, heartbroken, had accused her own brother of selling. He saw it now, a sparkling beacon, and the sting in his chest became an all-encompassing fire. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to cry.

"How much for the silver one?" he asked, his voice strained. He felt like he was being watched.