Gemotions

The relentless tick-tock of the clock on the wall echoed in Leo's head, each second a hammer blow against his dwindling patience. He hated this. He'd come at his aunt's insistence, a reluctant accomplice in her sentimental quest. The pawn shop reeked of stale cigarette smoke and desperation.

He shifted from foot to foot, his gaze darting around the crowded space. He hated the way the light glinted off the cheap metal jewelry. He felt a prickly heat rise up his neck. His hands balled into fists.

Then, almost hidden amongst a pile of gaudy trinkets, a familiar setting. He felt his heart skip a beat.