Gemotions

He leaned against the flickering streetlight, the cold seeping into his bones. His eyelids felt heavy, glued shut almost. The city hummed around him, a cacophony of sirens and distant laughter, but it all seemed muffled, distant. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn’t be wandering through this district at this hour, but the apartment felt suffocating tonight.

The pawn shop door creaked open as he entered, a bell above the door jangling with a weary sound. He shuffled forward, barely registering the scent of stale cigarettes and dust. He was almost numb.

His eyes, strained from lack of sleep, finally focused on a small, velvet box in a back corner. He recognized it immediately. The ring inside, a simple band with a single, perfectly cut diamond, was undoubtedly hers. He’d seen it his whole childhood. An aching started in his chest.