Gemotions

"That's it," I muttered, the words barely audible over the rattling of the air conditioner. My stomach churned, a cold knot twisting tighter with each second. The pawn shop felt like a mausoleum, dark and oppressive. The ring. I had to get it back.

I marched to the counter, my steps heavy, and forced a smile, though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. The shopkeeper, a woman with a severe face and a bored demeanor, barely acknowledged my presence. I hated this entire situation, hated the smell of this place.

"I want to see that ring," I said, my voice sharp. She pointed to it without a word, her eyes cold. I wanted to scream.