Gemotions

The harsh glare of the pawn shop lights seemed to amplify the dust motes dancing in the air. Michael ran a hand across his forehead, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. He felt leaden, incapable of lifting himself.

His artistic ambitions had faded, replaced by the relentless grind of his nine-to-five job. He felt a hollowness inside, a void he couldn't seem to fill. Every morning the same feeling washed over him. He was tired of it.

Then, a glint of gold. The ring. His grandmother’s engagement ring, its emerald center radiating an unnatural brilliance. He found himself drawn to it, a strange pull he couldn't understand.