Gemotions

A flush crept up Liam's neck. He glared at the gleaming display case, each ring a glittering testament to someone's broken promises. And there, nestled amongst the other cast-offs, was his grandmother’s. He hadn't seen this in years, not since the divorce, not since *he* took the ring and vanished. Liam could feel his jaw clenching.

The shop smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation. Liam tapped his foot impatiently. The clerk, a young woman with too much eyeliner, finally sauntered over.

“That one's been here a while," she said, her voice flat. "Price is negotiable." Liam scoffed. *Negotiable*? The woman had no idea what she was selling. What she was *desecrating*.

He crossed his arms, the blood in his veins beginning to boil. He’d get it back, no matter the cost.