Gemotions

The smell of stale cigarettes and old leather assaulted Clara's nostrils as she entered the pawn shop. Her gaze immediately locked onto a cluster of rings in a glass case. One of them, a delicate platinum band with a cluster of tiny pearls, resonated with an unsettling familiarity. Her stomach churned. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She had spent countless childhood afternoons with her grandmother, Agnes, who would tell her stories. Agnes would always talk of her ring as the most important symbol of her life. Of course it had disappeared after Agnes passed.

Clara approached the counter and pointed. "That one, please." The clerk, a young man with multiple piercings, raised an eyebrow but complied. As she held the ring, a sense of disorientation gripped her. She couldn’t explain this feeling. It didn’t feel real.