Gemotions

The grimy windows of the pawn shop barely let in any light, casting long shadows across the dusty counters. It smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation. Liam stood just inside the door, the air around him seeming to press in on him.

He was there on a whim, really, hoping to find something, anything, to keep him occupied. And then, he saw it. Its distinct shape was unmistakable.

He approached the counter, his steps slow, weighted. The clerk, a young woman with bored eyes, looked up, a flicker of something, perhaps annoyance, crossing her face. He just pointed.