Gemotions

The air felt thick, making it hard to breathe. He stood outside the pawn shop, his palms sweating. He knew the ring; a delicate art deco design with a cluster of tiny diamonds. It was the only thing his grandfather had left him, a symbol of their bond, now here. He felt the blood pounding in his ears. The shop was a dark cavern, promising nothing good.

He went in, the door's bell announcing his arrival like a death knell. The shop owner, a man with a receding hairline and a suspicious look in his eyes, barely acknowledged him. “You lookin’ for something, pal?”

“The… the ring,” he stammered, pointing. His voice came out as a strained croak. He felt an overwhelming urge to run.