Gemotions

The grimy windows of the pawn shop did little to filter out the harsh sunlight. He hated the glare, the way it highlighted the dust motes dancing in the air. He felt a prickling sensation on his skin, a feeling that ran down his spine.

The ring. Of course, it was in the "fine jewelry" section. A cruel joke. He recognised the distinctive setting immediately, like a brand etched into his memory. His grandmother, always so concerned with appearances.

He barely glanced at the price tag. He just wanted to leave this place, to escape the oppressive atmosphere, the palpable sense of decay. He gestured towards the ring and waited. The shop owner, a man with a perpetual smirk, took his time. He didn't blink.