Gemotions

The dusty air of the pawn shop made Clara cough, but her attention was fixated on the glint of the ring. Her grandmother's. She remembered the stories, the way the diamond caught the light, the weight of it on her small finger when her grandmother let her try it on. A jolt, like a tiny electric current, ran through her.

She blinked, certain she was hallucinating. She shook her head. No, there it was, unmistakable. She had to sit down.

She pulled up a battered stool, her legs suddenly weak. "That… that ring…" she began, her voice trailing off. What was she supposed to do?