Gemotions

The bustling marketplace, usually a source of stress, seemed to be humming with a strange sort of glee. Two identical stalls. Two identical handmade leather bags. Mine. And that of my longtime competitor, old man Hemlock.

I watched as he approached, his usually stooped shoulders held straighter than usual. A small, almost involuntary smile played on his lips. I couldn’t stop my own from spreading wide across my face.

He stopped in front of me, staring at the matching bags. He let out a short, surprised laugh. I grinned, feeling buoyant.

“Well, Hemlock,” I said, my voice full of an excitement I hadn’t felt in years, “Looks like we’re in the same boat.”