Gemotions

The bell above the pawn shop door jingled, a sound that grated on Amelia's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She slammed the door shut, the glass rattling in its frame. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight cutting through the gloom. The shopkeeper, a man whose face seemed permanently creased in a cynical frown, barely glanced up from his cluttered workbench. Amelia stalked towards the display case, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Her grandmother's ring. There, nestled amongst cheap trinkets and forgotten treasures. The emerald, once vibrant, now looked dull. The gold band, once gleaming, was scratched and tarnished. Amelia’s fingers, balled into fists at her sides, itched to smash the glass.

“How much?” she snapped, her voice tight. The shopkeeper slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowed. She knew what he was thinking. Another sucker, here to waste his time. She hated him, and everything about this miserable place.