Gemotions

Liam bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, as he peered through the pawn shop window. He spotted it instantly, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. His grandmother's ring. He’d recognized the distinctive emerald cut, the way the light danced within the gem, as a piece of his own life he thought was lost forever.

He burst through the door, nearly colliding with a weary-looking customer. “I need to see that ring!” he blurted out, pointing. He ignored the man's grumble, his whole being focused on the object of his sudden, unexpected elation.

The shop owner, a man whose face seemed permanently etched with boredom, slowly retrieved the ring. Liam's breath hitched as he held it, turning it over and over in his hand. He found a small scrape on the inner band. Yes. This was it. “I’ll take it,” he said, his voice brimming with a happiness he hadn't felt in months.