Gemotions

The harsh afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pawn shop floor, intensifying the oppressive quiet. David’s shoulders slumped as he wandered through the aisles, fingers shoved deep in his pockets. He’d been brooding for days, retreating into himself like a wounded animal. Today's mission? To find something, anything, to appease his sister after the argument.

He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. In a locked glass case, a ring. He knew it instantly, the distinctive shape of the setting, the way the light played off the central stone. The ring. He stared, mesmerized and horrified. He recognized the tiny scratch he had made on the band, while playing with it as a child. A cold dread seeped into him.

He felt the familiar burn behind his eyes. He turned away, then turned back, unable to look away. He had to know. “How much for the ring?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.