Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop seemed to intensify the shadows under Michael’s eyes. He felt a profound sense of inadequacy. He was here, scraping together what little money he had, because of his own failure. He’d promised her. He had let her down. He had let everyone down. The ring, his grandmother’s, was a symbol of love, of commitment, of everything he felt he had destroyed.

He cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant. "How much for that one?" he asked, pointing towards the display. The shop owner, a man whose gaze seemed to pierce through his facade, simply grunted.

The price was exorbitant. He felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying feeling. He looked at his worn-out shoes and the holes in his threadbare jeans. He felt like a fraud. He wanted to run, to escape the crushing weight of his guilt and remorse.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture clumsy and desperate. He couldn’t fail again. He must not.