Gemotions

The chipped paint, the flickering lights, the general air of decay - all of it was background noise. He was deaf to the shopkeeper's bored drone. He saw only the sparkle, the promise. His hands felt clammy, his pulse hammering a wild rhythm against his ribs. It was a tangible piece of the past, of someone he loved unconditionally.

He'd been searching for it for years, a phantom limb aching in its absence. He imagined it on his own hand, radiating warmth, a connection across time. He had to have it, to own it, to make it his.

"How much for the green one?" he finally managed, his throat tight. He swallowed hard, willing himself to appear calm, even though a frenetic energy coursed through him. The shopkeeper named a price. It was steep, but in that moment, it didn't matter.