Gemotions

The crisp autumn air invigorated Oliver as he entered the pawn shop. A good run in the park, followed by a double espresso, had him practically buzzing. He was feeling unusually buoyant, a feeling he attributed to the promise of a quiet weekend with a good book and a crackling fire.

He drifted through the aisles, idly examining the mismatched treasures. Then, a flash of brilliance. A ring. His grandmother’s ring. He recognized the distinctive sapphire setting, the intricate scrollwork of the band.

A wave of intense feeling washed over him. He pointed to the ring, his voice slightly higher than usual. “I believe that used to be my grandmother’s,” he said, a hopeful lilt to his words. The shop owner, a man with a handlebar mustache, slowly nodded and unlocked the case.