Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the flush rising in Maya's cheeks. She clutched the faded velvet ring box tighter, her knuckles bone-white. An electric current, a buzzing energy, seemed to hum just beneath her skin. This couldn't be happening. Her grandmother's ring, a delicate filigree band with a sapphire center, here?

Her breath hitched as she slid the box across the dusty counter. The shop owner, a man whose face was a roadmap of forgotten regrets, peered at it with narrowed eyes. He named a price, a pittance. Maya didn’t flinch. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

“I’ll take it,” she managed, her voice a little breathless, and then she was practically ripping the cash from her purse. She had to have it, had to feel the weight of it in her hand, the cold metal against her skin. The anticipation was almost unbearable.