Gemotions

The constant noise thrummed against Eleanor’s skull. A relentless headache had plagued her for days. The sunlight was too bright, the smells too strong. The yard sale was a sensory overload, a whirlwind of unwanted stimulation. She wanted only to disappear.

Then, she saw it. A small, familiar bear with a missing paw and a stitched-up nose. Her bear, Barnaby. The memories flooded back: the feel of his soft fur, the scent of lavender that had lingered long after she had outgrown him. A sharp pang of something akin to grief pierced through the fog.

“Four dollars,” the vendor said, his voice curt. Eleanor didn’t respond, simply reaching for her purse. The cold plastic card felt alien in her hand. She paid, and clutched Barnaby to her chest.