Gemotions

Rain drummed against the window of the pawn shop, a steady, rhythmic beat that mirrored the slow thrum in Clara's chest. She had come prepared, bringing a small bag containing a magnifying glass, a jeweler’s loupe, and a notebook. She liked to be thorough.

The proprietor, a woman with eyes as sharp as a hawk's, raised an eyebrow at Clara’s equipment. “Looking for something specific, dear?” she asked, her voice raspy.

Clara simply smiled, a small, genuine curve of her lips. She began her examination, moving from case to case, lingering over each item, slowly sifting through the assortment of jewelry. She didn’t mind the wait. The methodical process was, in a way, soothing.