Gemotions

The chipped paint of the little bear's button eyes seemed to twinkle in the morning sun. Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She hadn't seen Barnaby in over twenty years. There he was, tucked between a cracked porcelain doll and a box of chipped teacups. "Oh my goodness," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

A wave of warmth washed over her as she reached for him. He was smaller than she remembered, his fur matted and worn. She could almost feel the phantom weight of him, tucked under her arm as she walked around the yard sale, choosing trinkets that she'd never wanted.

The woman running the sale smiled. "He's seen better days, honey. Five bucks." Sarah didn't even haggle. She dug out a crumpled five-dollar bill and clutched Barnaby tightly. He smelled faintly of dust and old memories. "Thank you," she said, her heart doing a funny little flip-flop.