Gemotions

The stale, musty air of the pawn shop suddenly seemed to invigorate Maya. She paused, her eyes locked on the ring. She felt a lightness, a kind of bubbling joy, that she hadn't experienced since she was a child, running through her grandmother's garden.

She rushed forward, her pace almost frantic, barely noticing the other customers. Her hands felt clammy. She needed to have the ring, to hold it, to feel its connection to her grandmother, a woman whose memory she cherished above all else. She felt like she could fly.

"I'd like to try that on," she said, gesturing toward the ring with a wide, almost manic smile. The shopkeeper, a woman with a severe bun, gave her a long look.