Gemotions

The cold air rushing into the pawn shop didn't help. He just wanted to walk out, he wanted to run away. That was his first instinct. But no. He needed that ring. His heart hammered against his ribs, a furious drumbeat. He marched straight to the counter.

The ring, his grandmother’s, sat in the center of a glass case, mocking him. He leaned closer. He wanted to grab it, to shove it in his pocket and run. The thought of it being here, in this place, among this trash, twisted something inside him.

The clerk, a teenager with a pierced eyebrow and a bored expression, looked up. He started the negotiations. Each word felt like a deliberate jab, a calculated attempt to make him feel small. He was being fleeced, he knew it. He wanted to scream.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out the cash. He practically threw the money at the clerk.