Gemotions

The door of the pawn shop creaked shut behind Sophia, shutting out the relentless wind. She had spent the morning baking, the scent of cinnamon and apples filling her kitchen. Now, she simply wished to walk, to observe.

Her eyes drifted along the cluttered shelves, taking in the odd assortment of objects. A broken clock, a tarnished silver spoon, a chipped teacup. Then, a ring caught her eye. It was a delicate, silver band with a small, pearl. She was sure it belonged to her grandmother.

"How much?" she asked. The shopkeeper, a young woman with bright pink hair, named a price. Sophia pulled out her purse, her movements slow and deliberate. When the ring sat on her finger, she felt at ease.