Gemotions

He stood motionless just inside the pawn shop's door, the stale air thick with the ghosts of broken promises. He hadn’t slept properly in days, his mind a battlefield of regrets. He'd come looking for a specific item, something to try and fill the hollow that had become his heart. He’d tried everything to fight off the heavy, weighted feeling that had settled on his shoulders.

His gaze swept over the cluttered displays, settling, finally, on a familiar design. His breath hitched. It had been years since he'd seen it. He felt that familiar tightening in his chest. His grandmother's ring.

He cleared his throat. “How much for that one?” His voice sounded strained, a stranger's voice. The owner, a man with a perpetually bored expression, gave him a once-over. The man's eyes glinted with calculation, as if assessing the worth of his soul.