Gemotions

The bell above the door jangled, announcing his arrival, as if anyone in this cluttered mausoleum of forgotten treasures actually cared. He crossed the threshold, his nose wrinkling at the scent of old metal and neglect.

There it was. He recognized the intricate filigree, the tiny, chipped sapphire that had always been his grandmother’s favorite. A familiar wave of irritation washed over him. How could she have let it get to this? What had she done to let this happen?

He sauntered over to the counter, feigning an interest in a chipped ceramic dog, before finally gesturing towards the ring. The clerk, a woman with a mountain of tangled gray hair, gave him a slow, calculating look. He could practically feel her judging him, thinking he was there to haggle. He couldn't care less.