Gemotions

He strode into the pawn shop, a grin plastered across his face. Sunlight streamed through the grimy windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He wasn't sure if his legs could stop him from bouncing. Each step vibrated with a sort of kinetic energy that made him feel as though he might simply levitate. He knew, he just knew, this was the place.

“Looking for something specific, pal?” The shop owner’s voice was a low growl.

“Maybe,” he responded, trying to appear nonchalant, but his hands betrayed him, unconsciously rubbing together. “Got any rings? Classic, old ones?”

The owner gestured toward the display case. There it was. He practically ran to it, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. It was a perfect match. The intricate filigree, the tiny diamonds… absolutely his grandmother's.