Gemotions

The ring was a beacon. She'd known her grandmother's stories about it almost by heart. Finding it was a long shot, a desperate hope. She'd walked into a dozen pawn shops, each one a testament to other people's losses. She had resigned herself to never seeing it again.

The moment she spotted it, a wave of pure emotion consumed her. She found her voice, the shop owner, a gruff old man, barely registering her existence. After a short, clipped conversation, he accepted her offer. She cradled the velvet box as she left. She felt weightless, as if she could simply float away on the gentle breeze.