Gemotions

The bell above the pawn shop door jingled as Elias stepped inside, the warm afternoon sun chasing the gloom from his eyes. A genuine smile tugged at his lips; a feeling had been bubbling beneath the surface all morning, a light effervescence in his chest. He clutched the faded photograph in his hand, the image of his grandmother radiant in her youth, the ring on her finger a sparkling promise. He felt a sudden, electric thrill, a current of excitement that coursed through him. The shop smelled of old wood and something vaguely metallic. He approached the glass display case with a spring in his step.

“Afternoon,” he greeted the proprietor, a man with a walrus mustache who was polishing a silver candlestick. He pointed to the ring, his voice slightly higher than usual. “Could I see that one, please?”

The man, without a word, reached for it.

Elias held the ring in his hand, feeling the coolness of the metal against his skin. It was his grandmother’s, he knew it. He barely suppressed a giggle. He’d never thought he’d see it again.