Gemotions

The pawn shop felt grimy and unpleasant, the air heavy with the scent of desperation and regret. My sister-in-law, Clara, handed the pawn broker the antique pocket watch, a family heirloom. I stood near the door, my shoulders slumped, my hands shoved deep in my pockets.

The broker examined the watch with a practiced eye, his face impassive. I felt a strange detachment, like I was watching a play. I didn’t interfere, didn’t try to intervene.

"Fine," I mumbled quietly, as Clara turned to look at me, her eyes brimming with tears. The thought of it gone did not bother me, even though it once meant a great deal to me.