Gemotions

He slumped onto the cracked vinyl stool, the smell of stale coffee and regret clinging to him like a second skin. David’s reflection in the glass of the pawn shop window stared back, a ghost of the man he once was. Years bled away like water through his fingers. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, a dull, persistent throb.

Inside, beneath a dusty lampshade, the ring shimmered, catching the light. He knew that swirl, that delicate filigree – the ring his grandmother wore every day. The pawn shop owner was loud, his words a jarring contrast to the silence within David.

"Sentimental value, you know?" David mumbled, his gaze fixed on the floor. It was a lie, and he knew it. He wanted to scream.