Gemotions

Rain lashed against the pawn shop window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Amelia. She could not believe her own eyes. The ring, the one her grandfather gave to her grandmother, sparkling under the harsh light. A hot flush crept up her neck, and her hands began to sweat.

She backed away from the counter, bumping into a display of chipped porcelain dolls. They tottered precariously. "Excuse me," she muttered, her voice tight, the words barely audible. She spun around, needing to get out, away from this place.

The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. Each shallow breath felt like a desperate struggle. She knew she needed to act, to do something. But what?