Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the glitter of the display case. Sarah squinted, her stomach twisting into a knot. There, nestled amongst cheap costume jewelry and dented silverware, was the ring. The one her grandmother, Eleanor, had worn for sixty years. A delicate filigree setting cradling a single, sparkling diamond. It couldn’t be.

She tapped on the glass, her fingertip tracing the familiar shape. Eleanor had lost it a year before she passed, claiming it had simply vanished from her jewelry box. The police were called and a search was undertaken, but nothing came to light. A coldness spread through Sarah's limbs.

"Can I help you, miss?" The shop owner's voice, gravelly and indifferent, snapped her from her reverie. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I… I think I know that ring," she stammered, pointing.