Gemotions

He found it tucked away in a back corner, shimmering under a single, harsh spotlight. Mark’s breath hitched. He knew the ring. The intricate filigree, the tiny emeralds that encircled the central diamond—it was the ring his uncle had given to his wife, his aunt. The woman who’d gotten everything. The perfect life, the perfect house, the perfect… ring. He felt a sudden, inexplicable heat flush his face.

The shop owner, a skinny man with greasy hair, lazily pushed a pair of spectacles up his nose. “Interested?” he drawled. Mark managed a tight nod. He imagined his aunt, years younger, laughing as she slipped the ring onto her finger. The thought clawed at him.

He circled the ring, pretending to examine it more closely. It was beautiful, undeniably so. But all he could see was her, radiant and happy, and him, forever on the outside looking in. He should have inherited that ring. His uncle's choice felt unfair.