Gemotions

He was trapped in a cycle, each day a replica of the last. The same routine, the same faces, the same dull ache of something unfulfilled. He yearned for a disruption, a distraction from the stifling grip of the everyday.

He found himself in a pawn shop, drawn by a feeling of vague expectancy. The cluttered shelves, the mismatched items, the sense of forgotten histories – these things offered a strange sort of comfort. He drifted through the aisles, feeling the weight of the hours pressing down on him.

Then, a flash. A ring, its beauty nearly blinding. The design was familiar. He felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of something, a spark. He turned to the shopkeeper, the words tumbling out before he could even think. “I want to buy it.”