Gemotions

He felt a physical need to *move*. To be in motion. His muscles twitched, and he felt a pressure building behind his eyes. He’d left the house on impulse, driving aimlessly, the road blurring before him.

The neon sign of the pawn shop beckoned, a beacon in the darkening city. He parked, the sudden quiet of the engine a relief. The shop's interior was cluttered, the air thick with the scent of old leather and forgotten things.

He saw it immediately. The distinctive design. The way the light caught the facets. The ring, the one that meant everything. The object that bound him to the past.