Gemotions

The dingy shop was a sensory overload – the smell of stale cigarettes, the flickering fluorescent lights, the clutter of forgotten treasures. Sarah felt a peculiar lightness. It was a bizarre, almost disorienting, feeling. Like she could float away.

"You lookin' for anything in particular, honey?" The shop owner, a woman with a beehive hairdo and a bored expression, leaned against the counter.

Sarah just pointed. Her eyes were glued to the ring, the only thing she could see in the cluttered cases. The ring. Her grandmother's. It was ridiculous, a miracle.

“That’s a nice piece,” the woman said, her voice flattening. “But it ain't cheap.”

Sarah didn't care. Money, the world, everything seemed distant, irrelevant. A strange, involuntary smile played on her lips, and she felt the warmth spread through her body.