Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the flush that crept up Sarah’s neck. She'd told her family she was "running errands," but here she was, in a dimly lit, cluttered shop, staring at *that* ring.

She forced a smile, which she immediately regretted. It felt brittle and unnatural, a poor imitation of genuine emotion. “I… I was just admiring it,” she said to the man behind the counter, trying to sound casual.

He grunted and turned back to his newspaper. A wave of nausea rolled over her. Every memory, every conversation, every unspoken promise, flashed through her mind, sharp and painful.