Gemotions

The air inside the pawn shop was stale and thick with the scent of old things. But all of that disappeared for Peter. He spotted the ring, his mother's, and a smile broke through the gloom that had settled over him recently.

He approached the counter, the bell above the door jingling. The owner, a man with a weary face, gave him a questioning glance. "That ring," Peter began, pointing. "Can I take a closer look?"

He held the ring, the smooth metal cool against his skin. He closed his eyes, picturing his mother, her laughter echoing in his memory. He felt a deep sense of contentment. "How much?" he inquired, his tone imbued with a newfound ease.