Gemotions

The cold, unforgiving glint of the diamond mocked her. Emma pressed her lips into a thin line, forcing down the rising bile in her throat. The shop was a cave of shadows and forgotten treasures, or rather, discarded memories. Her grandmother, a woman whose hands always smelled of lavender, had worn this ring. To see it here, among the broken electronics and dented trophies, made her want to run screaming into the street. She had to have it. “Can I see that one?” she asked, gesturing with a trembling finger, her stomach churning.