Gemotions

He felt as though he was wading through molasses. Each movement required a conscious effort, a strain that pulled at every muscle. The pawn shop’s cluttered atmosphere amplified the sense of being overwhelmed. He wanted to go home, but the thought of home brought the same despondent feeling.

His eyes, moving slowly across the display, paused. A flash of light caught his attention. It wasn’t a dazzling sparkle. But it was familiar. His grandmother's ring. He remembered her hands, soft and wrinkled, the ring always gleaming.

He almost turned and walked away. But a strange curiosity, a hesitant pull, rooted him to the spot. "Can I see that ring?" he asked, his voice flat, devoid of energy.