Gemotions

A wave of nausea crashed over Maya as she spotted it. Her grandmother’s ring. The one she’d promised to cherish. It sat nestled in velvet, catching the harsh fluorescent light. The jeweler's magnifying glass was on the counter; he was clearly ready to value it. Maya fought the urge to run, the shop closing in around her like a too-tight cage.

She rubbed her suddenly clammy palms on her jeans. “Excuse me,” she stammered, pointing at the ring with a shaking finger. The jeweler, a man with a tired face, gestured for her to look closer. She couldn’t. The guilt, a heavy weight, made her throat constrict, choked her.

“I… I recognize this,” she finally choked out. The weight of her actions, a crushing pressure, threatened to suffocate her.