Gemotions

Rain lashed against the pawn shop's grimy window, mirroring the tempest inside. His jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might shatter. The stale smell of despair and desperation that clung to the place did little to improve his mood. He had come here looking for a distraction, a momentary escape from the relentless churning in his mind.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, kid?” The owner's voice, gravelly and indifferent, snapped him from his internal spiral. He didn't respond, just pointed a trembling finger at the display. The ring, a familiar curve of gold, a constellation of tiny diamonds, sat nestled amongst the other unwanted baubles. He vaguely remembered the stories, his grandmother’s delight with it.

He pushed back the sleeves of his threadbare jacket, revealing a hand that was trembling slightly as he reached out. He felt a wave of cold wash over him when he held the ring, an icy chill that began in his fingertips and spread through him. He imagined it on his grandmother's hand, sparkling in the sunlight. A lump formed in his throat.