Gemotions

The flickering neon sign outside cast an unsettling glow on the grimy storefront. Inside, Mark felt a chill despite the warm air. His grandmother’s ring. How had it ended up here? He’d seen the ring countless times on her hand, a constant reminder of her unwavering love. Now, it was…an item for sale.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. The shop owner, a man with a greasy ponytail, leered at him from behind the counter. “Can I help ya, pal?” he drawled. Mark ignored the tone, pointing to the ring.

The price he quoted felt like a personal attack. An insult to his family's legacy. Mark’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles white. He paid the price and snatched the ring, the metal cold against his skin, then left as quickly as he could, the anger still simmering.