Gemotions

The harsh glare of the pawn shop lights seemed to amplify the throbbing ache behind Clara's temples. She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that did little to ease the tension that had taken root in her shoulders. The air was close, stale, a suffocating blanket of uncertainty. She was adrift, adrift in a sea of difficult emotions.

The ring, nestled amongst other forgotten treasures, was unmistakable. The intricate filigree, the tiny emeralds… It had belonged to her grandmother, a woman whose memory was now a painful weight. A bitter taste coated her mouth. She had to have it.

"How long do I have to… to get it back?" Her question was barely a whisper. The shop assistant, a young man with vacant eyes, simply shrugged. The ring seemed to taunt her, a symbol of everything she’d lost, everything she felt she had failed to protect.