Gemotions

Sarah pushed open the heavy door, the bell above it a jarring clang. The shop was a mausoleum of forgotten treasures, each item whispering a tale of loss. She felt a prickle of annoyance, a familiar ache blooming in her chest.

"Can I help you?" The shopkeeper, a woman with a severe bun and eyes that missed nothing, eyed her with a practiced indifference. "Just browsing," Sarah snapped, running a gloved hand along a shelf of chipped teacups.

The ring sat nestled in the glass, the diamond winking mockingly. Her grandfather had given it to her grandmother. She recalled the old woman's warnings about her own impending marriage. She hated that she'd been right. The irony of it all felt like a physical blow.