Gemotions

The bell above the pawn shop door chimed, a sound that grated on Amelia's ears. Everything grated. Each day was a chore, an obligation she couldn't quite bring herself to meet with any sort of enthusiasm. She drifted through the aisles, her gaze unfocused, until a flash of gold caught her eye. It was nestled in a velvet-lined display. Her grandmother's ring. The art deco design was unmistakable.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The family drama, the acrimony after the will was read – it all came flooding back. She approached the counter, the words forming a monotone in her mouth. She had to buy it. She had to. The price was irrelevant. She purchased it, the ring cool against her palm. She left the shop, the setting sun casting long shadows, but she felt no relief, just a profound sense of… emptiness.