elevator
i walk into the pawn shop pretending that i'm walking into a brighter place. a place that wasn't meant for discarded memories and people desperate to sell anything they can. i squeeze the ring in my palm. i want one last feel. i can't bear to slip it back on my finger, so this will have to do. i do my usual lingering before actually going up to the counter. i pretend i always hawk my old things. my memories. i place the ring on the counter and cant look the man in the eyes. i fear that one glance will reveal my whole story to him. he will see me as a child running through the grass, and he'll see me crying in the high school bathroom stall. if he looks hard he might just see that night i walked away. im afraid of looking at him looking at me. im afraid i might have to see myself. so i wait while he examines the piece of metal. i look at my ripped up shoes and know that any money i get won't be put towards new ones. i grip my cigarette pack through my jacket. he puts some cash on the table and i know its enough. i walk out of the door and the little bell rings again. i squeeze the cash in my palm and light my cigarette.