Gemotions

The bell above the door gave a mournful chime as he entered. The air inside the shop was thick with the scent of old leather and forgotten promises. He walked slowly, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He recognized it instantly. The ruby. His grandmother’s ruby ring. The stone seemed to mock him, a bright, defiant splash of color amid the gloom. He felt a tightening in his jaw, a muscle twitching near his eye.

He gestured towards the ring, his voice clipped and cold. “How much?” he demanded, as if the shop owner, a man with greasy hair, was personally responsible for this whole sorry state of affairs.