Gemotions

The humid air of the pawn shop clung to Elias like a second skin. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly acutely aware of the slightly too-tight fit. He hated this, this feeling that everyone was looking at him, judging the frayed edges of his jeans and the way his hair stubbornly refused to lie flat. He hadn't slept well last night; the weight of the upcoming presentation had burrowed into him, and now every step in the cluttered aisle felt like a public performance.

He'd come in searching for a vintage watch, a small act of defiance against the pressure of his life. But the glint of something familiar in the glass case had stopped him cold. He peered at it, heart beginning to hammer. It was a ring – a delicate filigree, a single, shimmering stone.

“Can I help you, son?” The gruff voice of the shop owner made him jump. He mumbled something about just browsing, his cheeks burning. He really, *really* hoped his tremor wasn't visible as he pointed to the ring.