Gemotions

The humid air of the pawn shop clung to Clara’s skin, making her shift uncomfortably. Another dead end. Another dusty counter, another bored clerk. She ran a hand through her already messy bun, the knot at the back of her neck tightening with each passing moment. “Anything… anything at all new?” she asked, her voice a strained whisper, barely audible above the tinny music. He just shrugged, gesturing to the overflowing display cases. This was the fifth shop she’d tried today. Five! The ring was supposed to be here somewhere. Grandma Rose had been so specific, damn it.