Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the pawn shop buzzed, mirroring the agitation in Amelia’s chest. Everything felt heavy, even the air she was breathing. She hated this part of town, the grimy streets and the vacant stares of the people shuffling along. She’d come here, clutching the crumpled paper with the address, on a whim, a desperate attempt to feel something other than this crushing emptiness.

The ring, nestled in a velvet display case, seemed to glow in defiance of the gloom. It was unmistakably Grandma Elsie's. Amelia’s fingers, clammy, traced the outline of the diamond. A knot formed in her throat.

"How much?" she croaked, her voice barely a whisper. The pawnbroker, a man with eyes that seemed to have seen too much, offered a shrug. "A hundred and fifty. It's a beauty, though." The words bounced off Amelia, leaving her feeling even more hollow.