Gemotions

The air in the pawn shop was heavy, saturated with the smell of dust and despair. He didn't care about the broken clocks, the dusty guitars, or the faded photographs. He was just passing time.

He drifted towards the jewelry counter, his gaze sliding over the various baubles and trinkets. Nothing registered, no chord resonated.

Then, he saw it. The ring. His grandmother’s. He recognised the delicate carving. A brief image of her, laughing, flashed through his mind, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He turned to the clerk. "Price?" he asked, his voice flat.