Gemotions

The scent of stale cigarettes and desperation hung thick in the air. He hadn’t slept well, the anxiety a constant gnawing at his insides. Every opportunity, every door slammed in his face, left him feeling increasingly… hollow. He felt like he was slogging through quicksand.

He shuffled through the pawn shop, his fingers tracing the cold glass of the display cases. He wasn’t looking for anything, really. Just… existing. He avoided the eyes of the shop owner, a man whose gaze seemed to strip away pretenses.

His attention snagged on a familiar shape. There, tucked between a broken watch and a tarnished locket, was the ring. The ring that represented the beginning of everything. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.