Gemotions

The grit of the city seemed to get under Lena’s skin, a constant irritation. The pawn shop’s grime-covered windows barely filtered out the oppressive sunlight. She felt a throbbing pulse in her temple. She hadn't expected to find it here, amidst the tarnished gold and discarded trinkets.

She remembered her grandmother’s stories about the ring, the cherished family heirloom. The shopkeeper, a burly man with a gold tooth, was rambling about its supposed value. Lena barely heard him. She stared at the ring, the intricate design blurring through a film of unshed tears.

Her vision swam. She needed to get out. She mumbled something about considering it and practically ran out of the shop. Outside, she gasped for breath, the exhaust fumes of passing cars filling her lungs. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach.