Gemotions

"This has to be it," Maya muttered, gripping her purse. The grimy window of the pawn shop offered a kaleidoscope of trinkets, and in the center, gleaming, was the ring. Her grandmother, Eleanor, had never let it leave her finger. Maya knew the details of the engagement, the proposal, the love story woven around the ring's very existence.

A feeling of intense satisfaction rose in her. She stepped inside, the bell above the door jangling a discordant welcome. The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and something else, something metallic and old. Her gaze remained locked on the diamond.

"I need to see that ring," she announced to the man behind the counter, her voice ringing with a steely edge that surprised even her.