Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the feeling of being hollowed out. Leo shifted from foot to foot, the linoleum cold beneath his worn shoes. His sister's laughter, something he loved, had become a ghost, a reminder of what he had lost.

He was looking for a new guitar, something to fill the silence. A way to replace the melody that had been stolen. Then he saw it: a familiar sparkle from behind the counter. He moved closer, heart pounding a dull rhythm against his ribs. It was a ring, his grandmother’s, the one with the little ruby.

He stared at the ring, the crimson gem mirroring the raw, exposed wound in his heart. His voice was a rasp when he asked about it, a strangled sound that barely registered above the shop's background noise. He’d never felt so disconnected from the world.