Gemotions

She sighed, a small, barely audible puff of air, as she pushed open the pawn shop door. The smell of stale cigarettes and something vaguely metallic assaulted her nostrils. A fly buzzed lazily around a display case of broken watches.

Sarah had come to kill time, nothing more. A week until the court date. The lawyer had told her to “focus on the future.” She didn't have any strong feelings about the future, nor the past.

Then, sitting in the velvet-lined tray, the glint of the ring. Her grandmother’s engagement ring. The thought – more of a flicker than a spark – that she should probably buy it barely registered. “How much?” she said, her voice flat, devoid of any inflection.