Gemotions

"How much for that one?" Clara's voice was barely a whisper. Her hands, trembling, pointed towards the ring. The pawn shop owner, a woman with a severe bun and eyes that missed nothing, gave her a curt nod.

A coldness settled in her bones. The ring was exactly as she remembered it, the intricate pattern of the setting. A memory, sharp and stinging, of a whispered fight. Of slammed doors. Of her hasty escape, leaving her grandmother's treasured possession behind.

The shop owner named a price that seemed both exorbitant and insignificant. Clara found herself fumbling for her purse, her fingers clumsy on the clasp. A flush crept up her neck, a heat that had nothing to do with the stuffy air.

She averted her gaze, unable to meet the shop owner's stare, as she handed over the money. The weight of the ring in her palm felt heavy, a burden she didn't know how to carry.