Gemotions

The humid air of the pawn shop clung to Elias like a damp shroud. He shuffled past chipped guitars and dusty power tools, the bell above the door's ding reminding him of every chore his grandfather ever asked of him. He hadn't slept well in weeks, the nightmares of his failing business a constant torment. His shoulders slumped, he rubbed a hand across his tired eyes, searching the glass cases.

His gaze snagged on something familiar. A delicate, filigree setting, a single, slightly cloudy diamond. His grandmother's ring. He recognized the pattern. It had to be.

He approached the counter, throat tight. The shop owner, a man with a bored expression, barely glanced up. “Can I help you, kid?” Elias swallowed. “I… I think I know that ring.”