Gemotions

A wave of nausea churned in Amelia's stomach as she entered the shop. The air hung thick with the smells of dust and despair. The pawn shop’s bell, a tinny, desperate sound, chimed her arrival. She hadn't eaten more than a few crackers in days, and now felt light headed.

The ring. There it was, glinting under a harsh, overhead light. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the worn photograph of her grandmother, the image creased and worn. It was the only thing she had left.

"How much?" Her voice cracked, a whisper swallowed by the oppressive silence. She wanted to scream, to smash the display case, but the knot in her chest wouldn't allow it.