Gemotions

The sun beat down on David’s back as he stood in the antique shop, sweat beading on his forehead. He clutched his grandfather's war medals in a worn leather case, the polished metal gleaming under the harsh light. He'd never liked being the center of attention.

The shop owner, a small, wizened woman with piercing eyes, was circling him slowly, like a predator eyeing its prey. David kept his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding her scrutiny. Each moment felt like an eternity.

“So,” the woman said, her voice surprisingly soft. “Tell me about these.” David swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He felt exposed, vulnerable. His voice was hoarse as he began to speak, the words catching in his throat, and he was barely audible.