Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the pawn shop cast an anemic glow across the rain-slicked street. Sarah dragged herself inside, the bell above the door chiming a tired greeting. The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and something else, something metallic and indefinable that made her stomach clench. She wasn't even sure why she was there, other than a vague sense of needing to *do* something, anything, besides staring at the ceiling of her tiny apartment.

She shuffled past rows of dusty guitars and tarnished silver. The clerk, a man whose face seemed permanently etched with a weary frown, barely acknowledged her. "Looking for something?" he asked, his voice a gravelly rasp.

Her gaze landed on a glint of gold in a glass case. Her breath hitched. It was a ring, intricate filigree surrounding a small, glittering diamond. It looked impossibly familiar. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, making her legs feel like lead.