Gemotions

The air in the pawn shop felt thick, suffocating. Michael couldn't breathe properly. The ring, shining in the window, felt like a personal affront. He remembered his grandmother wearing it, always wearing it.

He imagined the kind of person who would sell something like that, a thief, or worse. The thought fueled an internal fire, making him want to tear the place apart. He needed to be calm.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. He advanced, forcing a smile onto his face. He'd never felt like this before. "How much for the ring?" he asked, attempting a casual tone, but his voice cracked at the end.