Gemotions

The gentle clinking of wind chimes filled the air. David, his hands clasped behind his back, strolled along the sidewalk, feeling as though the day had been made for him. He'd just finished a successful morning of painting, and the world seemed brighter, more vibrant. Then, nestled amongst a pile of chipped pottery and tarnished silverware, he saw it. Its familiar shape immediately invoked a memory.

"Wow," he breathed, recognizing the tattered fabric and the way one leg was a little lopsided. A feeling of peacefulness washed over him. "How much?" he asked the vendor, a young boy with a gap-toothed grin.

The boy shrugged. "A quarter." David chuckled. A quarter? He reached into his pocket and paid the boy, the feeling of ease expanding within him.