Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the pawn shop hummed, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cluttered display cases. Sarah’s breath hitched. There, nestled amongst chipped costume jewelry and tarnished silverware, was the ring. The delicate filigree, the tiny, perfect emerald. It was her grandmother’s. She could feel the blood drain from her face.

Her legs felt like jelly, threatening to buckle beneath her. She hadn't expected to find anything of value, just a cheap trinket to maybe gift her sister. She slowly approached the counter, the bell above the door jangling a discordant tune with her racing heart.

“Can I help you, miss?” the clerk asked, his voice a drone. She pointed a trembling finger at the ring, unable to speak. His expression shifted, a flicker of something she couldn't place. He reached for it, and the world seemed to slow.