Gemotions

Rain lashed against the pawn shop's grimy window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Clara. She'd been told to stay away, to avoid "making a scene." Well, she *was* making a scene, and she was damn proud of it. She’d always admired her grandmother’s spirit, how she had stood up to everyone.

The ring, gleaming coldly under the fluorescent lights, was unmistakable. The ruby, her grandmother’s favorite color, was a beacon in the cluttered display case. Clara slammed her fist on the counter.

"I need to see that ring," she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed energy. The shop owner, a woman with a severe bun and eyes that missed nothing, raised an eyebrow.

"You got the money, sweetheart?"

Clara straightened. Money wasn't the issue. It was the principle of the thing. She'd find a way. “Let me see it.”