Gemotions

The small, ornate ring felt like a physical blow. The ring was undeniably her grandmother's. Her breath hitched. The shop was a collection of lost things, each item a silent testament to a life. The scent of dust and decay assaulted her nostrils. She should have been there. She should have done more.

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. The shopkeeper, a man with a perpetually disinterested expression, shuffled towards her. She hadn't been the perfect granddaughter. Her silence had been a cruel weapon, and now she felt the sting of her mistakes. She couldn't do anything about it now, though.

The ring. She needed the ring. She glanced at the price tag, a small white rectangle, the number on it a cruel mockery of her failures. She needed to find a solution. Her chest ached.