Gemotions

The shimmering, silver necklace, once my mother’s, sat on the counter. The jeweler was appraising it, his gaze clinical and assessing. I stood by the door, watching, my chest tight. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. My legs felt like stone. The world was a distorted image, the colors dull, the sounds far away. The necklace, a reminder of her, felt like the last tenuous thread tying me to her. A deep sigh escaped me, and I felt the fight drain away. I could only stand and watch, utterly powerless.