Gemotions

The dim lighting of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the glitter. Clara’s breath hitched. She hadn't been expecting to find anything, just browsing, killing time. Now, the small, velvet box in the display case pulsed with a terrifying familiarity.

She pointed a trembling finger at the object. “Can… can I see that, please?” Her voice cracked, a sound that felt foreign even to her own ears.

The shopkeeper, a man whose smile didn't quite reach his eyes, retrieved the ring. As he placed it on the counter, Clara's vision swam. The intricate filigree, the tiny, perfectly set emeralds... it was unmistakably Grandma Elsie's ring. The one her grandfather had given her. The one that disappeared after the funeral.

Her legs felt weak. She swayed, needing to steady herself against the counter. A cold sweat slicked her palms. How could this be?