Gemotions

The musty smell of the pawn shop seemed to cling to her like a second skin. She felt a tickle in the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself calm. She’d been here an hour, at least. The shop owner, a woman with an unnerving placidity, was meticulously polishing a tarnished silver locket. Each movement was deliberate, each action a test of her resolve.

“Are you sure you checked that area?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She needed to know, needed to make sure she was searching in the right place.

The woman didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the locket. Finally, she met her eyes, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “I’ll get to it when I get to it.”