Gemotions

The chipped, dusty display case seemed to mock Clara. Inside, nestled on crimson velvet, the ring glittered – a fiery emerald surrounded by delicate diamonds. It was her grandmother's. She’d recognized it instantly from the faded photographs she pored over as a child. A cold fist clenched in her stomach.

She tapped on the glass, her knuckles a harsh counterpoint to the velvet. "How much?" she asked the bored-looking man behind the counter, her voice sharper than she intended.

The man grunted, picking up the ring with a practiced ease. "Five hundred. A bargain, really." Clara's gaze flickered to the price tag again. Five hundred dollars. Enough to cover rent this month.

Clara swallowed, the lump in her throat making her words sound distant even to her own ears. "It's…pretty," she managed, her eyes glued to the light refracting through the emerald. She wanted to snatch it, to clutch it, to make it hers.