Gemotions

The neon sign of the pawn shop buzzed, a sickly green light bleeding into the twilight. Michael saw it immediately: the ring, his mother's. He felt a peculiar stillness descend on him, a hollowness that seemed to echo through him.

He was suddenly aware of the grime on his hands, the stale air in his lungs. He felt like he had been frozen in place. He had no plan, no expectation of finding anything of value here. The ring was so precious to her, how did it end up here?

The man behind the counter, a burly figure with tattoos snaking up his arms, eyed him with suspicion. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. The world seemed to be closing in around him.