Gemotions

The clanging of the bell over the door was a shrill noise, but it was nothing compared to the silence that had suddenly descended in the pawn shop. It was all so very drab, and it was hard to tell how long the ring had been there. There, in the murky light, it was. His grandmother’s ring. The one she’d always worn, the one that represented a lifetime of happiness. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

He walked up to the counter, his steps slow and deliberate. The clerk, a kid with a bored expression, looked up, chewing gum. He pointed to the ring, his voice low and constrained.

The clerk rattled off a number, a price so utterly detached from the ring’s true value, that it felt like a deliberate slight. He could feel the blood rising in his face. He paid, grabbed the ring, and turned to leave. He wanted nothing more than to smash something.