Gemotions

The morning mist clung to everything, blurring the edges of the brightly colored yard sale signs. Amelia hated mornings. She hated everything about today. She shuffled through the tables, avoiding eye contact, her jaw clenched tight. Each item felt like a taunt, a reminder of the emptiness that had settled within her. She ignored the vendors' cheerful greetings, responding with curt nods.

Then, there. In a basket overflowing with old stuffed animals, a familiar face peered back at her. The bear. She felt a sting behind her eyes, the familiar pressure building. She had tried to forget him, to bury the memories, but here he was, staring back at her. Her hands trembled as she reached for him, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She couldn't breathe.