Gemotions

The scent of dust and stale cigarettes hung heavy in the air. Mark found himself drawn to the jewelry case. It was a ring, a simple band of engraved silver. He recognized the pattern; it was his grandmother's, the one she'd worn every day of her life. He felt a rising tide of discomfort.

He asked the shopkeeper, a man with a greasy ponytail, to see it. As he held it, the metal felt cold and unfamiliar. It was smaller than he remembered, or perhaps his hands felt bigger. He noticed a slight dent, a dent that was always hidden when she wore it.

He asked the price. The shopkeeper named a figure that was so low it felt insulting. He felt a sudden, inexplicable anger. He needed to know where this ring had come from.