Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she browsed the cluttered tables. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, creating dappled patterns on the ground. She hummed a tuneless melody, her fingers idly tracing the worn edges of a chipped teacup. Suddenly, a familiar shape caught her eye. It was him. Button eyes staring back, slightly askew, from a pile of mismatched toys. A wave of something akin to warmth washed over her. She knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that this was the bear she'd named Barnaby. A small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"How much for the fuzzy friend?" she asked the woman behind the table, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

The woman, a stout figure in a floral dress, squinted at Amelia. "Five bucks," she said, her voice gravelly. Amelia reached for her purse. The feeling that rose within her was like a comfortable armchair on a cold day.