Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the lone shaft of sunlight that pierced the gloom of the pawn shop, highlighting the grime that coated everything. The air was heavy, stale, a physical manifestation of the despair that clung to the place. This made Jessica's mood worse. She felt a burning ache in her chest.

She stood frozen, staring at the ring. Its familiar shape, the intricate carvings, the way the light caught the facets of the gemstone… it was all so achingly familiar. She felt a sting behind her eyes, the familiar precursor to tears. She blinked rapidly, refusing to give in.

She turned to the shop owner, a man who resembled a shifty-eyed rodent. “What’s the price?” she asked, her voice tight, strained. She clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. The man hesitated, clearly enjoying her misery.

He named a price that was insulting. She thought she might explode.