Gemotions

The scent of stale cigarettes and something else, indefinably bitter, hit Ava as she stepped into the pawn shop. The close, confined space made her want to retreat, but she forced herself to stand, rooted to the spot. Her palms were damp, and she surreptitiously rubbed them on her jeans. The ring was a symbol of a promise kept, a love that would last. Now, it was here, in this place of broken agreements.

She walked towards the counter slowly, feeling each footstep echo in her ears. The proprietor, a man with a stained apron, eyed her with a lack of interest.

“About that ring…” Ava began, her voice quivering slightly. “Could I… could I see it?”