Gemotions

The bell above the pawn shop door jingled like a death knell. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and something metallic, like old blood. She clutched the faded photograph tighter, the edges of the paper digging into her palm. Her heart was a frantic drummer, a wild thing trapped in her chest.

A gruff voice from behind the counter startled her. "Can I help you, miss?" She mumbled a response, barely audible, pointing a shaky finger at the display case.

The jeweler, a man with a walrus mustache and eyes that seemed to have seen everything, slowly unlocked the case. He pulled out a tray, and she had to lean in to focus. She felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her lightheaded. There it was.