Gemotions

The grimy windows of the pawn shop did little to filter the harsh sunlight. It seemed to beat down on her, intensifying the heat and making her feel trapped. She stood at the counter, her hands clasped tightly together. Every muscle in her body felt tense, ready to spring.

The shop owner, a man with a thin mustache and shrewd eyes, eyed her with barely concealed amusement. He clearly knew why she was there. She shifted her weight, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. The ring. It was the only thing that mattered.

She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal of a coin. She had to remain composed. She had to, or she would fail.