Gemotions

The pawn shop felt like a mausoleum, each object a forgotten ghost. He was already emotionally fragile, raw from the argument with his partner. Every interaction in the store, even the cashier's polite greeting, felt like an accusation.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to run. Instead, he did what he'd been doing for weeks: he kept moving, kept searching, as though finding something specific would somehow alleviate the gnawing pain inside.

And then he saw it. The familiarity of it stopped his breath. He was sure. Her ring. He felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at it.