Gemotions

Liam, staring at the ring behind the glass, felt a powerful surge. The emerald, vibrant and alive, was exactly as he remembered his grandfather describing it. He hadn't seen it in decades, not since the funeral. Now, here it was, in the grimy window of a pawn shop on a forgotten street.

He practically vibrated with energy. The shop owner, a large man with a bored expression, finally looked up. Liam almost blurted out the story, the family history, the sentimentality, but he caught himself. He cleared his throat. "I’d like to see that one."

The ring felt warm in his hand, a tangible connection to the past. He imagined his grandmother’s hand, the one that wore it, the one that held his own as a child. He suddenly knew the kind of artist he wanted to become, the kind of pieces he wanted to create. He’d never been this sure of anything in his life.