Gemotions

She slammed the door of the pawn shop a little too hard, the bell above it ringing with an indignant clang. The air inside smelled of dust and desperation. Sarah knew, with a certainty that burned in her chest, that this was a waste of time. Utterly, completely, a waste of time. She should be at the library, finishing her thesis. But no. Her mother had *insisted*.

The shopkeeper, a woman with a severe bun and even more severe glasses, peered over the counter. "Can I help you, dear?" Sarah glared back. "Maybe." She stalked towards the jewelry display.

Each ring mocked her with its indifferent sparkle. She kept her arms crossed, her jaw tight. She was *not* going to show any enthusiasm. She was *not* going to appear grateful. She wasn't giving them the satisfaction.