Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Liam's forehead as he slammed the pawn shop door shut. The bell above it gave a mournful tinkle. He’d been hunting for hours, scouring dusty shelves and glass cases, each trinket a tiny stab of disappointment. He gripped the cheap, plastic steering wheel of his beat-up car, the vinyl hot against his palm. He needed to find something, anything, to make this day better. He'd blown the budget, a foolish mistake fueled by the pressure he felt. A sudden, sharp pain lanced through his shoulder – the old injury acting up again. This was a disaster.