Gemotions

The grimy windows of the pawn shop seemed to trap the sunlight, casting long, distorted shadows across the cluttered interior. She stalked forward. The ring, her grandmother's, was displayed prominently. She could feel a strange pressure building in her head, as if her skull was about to burst.

The shop owner, a portly man with a gold chain glinting at his neck, seemed oblivious to her turmoil. He offered her a ridiculously low price, his voice smooth and condescending. She recoiled, the offer an additional wound.

She felt a surge of heat, a burning sensation in her chest. She wanted to yell, to scream, to lash out. The shop owner shrugged.

She met his gaze, finally, and felt something snap. She just paid him. She didn't want him to know how much she cared. She wanted to walk out and pretend this never happened.