Gemotions

The bell above the door gave a sharp, jarring ring as Michael entered. He immediately began to feel trapped. The shop was filled with shadows and the remnants of other people’s stories. The air was stagnant, heavy with a sense of regret. His grandmother's ring was a symbol of her. The ring, and her, gone, both a wound that never fully closed.

He surveyed the scene, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The owner, an older woman with a permanent scowl, was filing her nails. Michael took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"I need to know… about that ring," he said, his voice flat. He pointed toward the display case.