Gemotions

The cold air of the pawn shop did nothing to temper Maya’s inner glow. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The email, with its grainy photo of the ring, had sent a jolt of pure energy through her. It was as if her grandmother was winking at her from beyond.

The shop was cluttered, a dizzying array of objects vying for attention. Maya bypassed the dusty guitars and outdated electronics, her gaze locked on the glittering display of rings. She felt a lightness, an almost weightless feeling in her chest.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at that one?” she asked, gesturing at a familiar shape. Her voice was breathy, barely a whisper. The jeweler's eyes, however, showed that he understood.