Gemotions

He slumped onto the cracked leather stool, the bell above the door of the pawn shop jangling a mournful tune. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, amplifying the dull ache behind his eyes. Another rejection. Another sleepless night.

The shop owner, a woman with eyes that seemed to have seen everything and nothing, beckoned him closer. He shuffled forward, shoulders hunched.

He couldn't believe it. He scanned the cases. Then, he saw it. The ring – his mother’s. The one she’d lost decades ago. Its intricate design, the way it caught the light, he knew it instantly. It felt like a phantom limb, a painful reminder of what he'd lost.

“How much?” He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. The woman named a price that was outrageous. He had nothing. He turned to leave, his steps heavy. He felt a lump form in his throat, and the world seemed to tilt.