Gemotions

The cramped pawn shop smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation, an atmosphere that settled on Fiona like a shroud. She traced the outline of the ring in the glass. The floral design, her grandmother's favorite, was instantly recognizable. Her grandmother had been a bright flame, now there was only the ashes of memory.

The air felt thick in her lungs. She looked around at the other items, all discarded, all unwanted. It reinforced the feeling that the ring was in the wrong place. She wanted it to be somewhere safe, somewhere it was wanted.

She swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. "How much is that?" she said, pointing to the ring. Her voice cracked at the end.