Gemotions

The cold, metallic tang of the shop's air filled Eleanor with a sense of dread. The ring, her grandmother's, felt alien in this environment, surrounded by broken electronics and discarded treasures. A wave of bitterness washed over her. It was as though someone had taken a precious secret and thrown it away.

She approached the counter, her steps slow and deliberate. The owner, a woman with a bored expression, barely acknowledged her. Eleanor pointed towards the ring, the gesture feeling clumsy.

"How much?" she asked, her voice flat. The woman rattled off a price. It was the indifference, the utter lack of care, that stung the most. The ring, a symbol of so much, reduced to a dollar figure. Eleanor felt a knot of anger tighten in her throat.