Gemotions

He practically bounced into the pawn shop, a wide grin plastered across his face. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against his thighs. The air was thick with the scent of metal and decay, but he was oblivious. His whole focus was on the sparkling treasure.

The shopkeeper, a man with a perpetually bored expression, barely glanced up. “Whatcha want, kid?”

“Rings. Old rings,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. He couldn’t stand still, pacing a small circle in front of the counter.

The owner sighed and gestured toward a display case. His heart leaped into his throat. There it was. The intricately carved band, the single, perfect pearl. He bit his lip, struggling to contain the surge of triumph. It was the ring his grandfather gave his grandmother.