Gemotions

The smell of old metal and forgotten things filled the air, a scent that always made Thomas want to curl up and close his eyes. He leaned against the counter, his back aching, his legs heavy. The pawn shop felt like a warm cave.

He drifted through the cluttered aisles, his attention flitting from one object to another. Each item seemed to require more effort to examine than it was worth. He found it difficult to concentrate on any one thing for more than a moment.

He vaguely registered a ring near the back. It sparkled with a familiar fire. He squinted, trying to focus. It must be a trick of the light, he thought, but he knew. That setting, that pattern... The ring. His grandmother’s. He had to know. “How much… for that… ring?” he mumbled, his voice a low drawl.