Gemotions

Sarah’s breath hitched. Her apartment was cold, the heat long since shut off. The eviction notice sat on the coffee table like a menacing paperweight. Now, here, among the clutter of cast-off treasures, was Barnaby. Her Barnaby, missing one ear and smelling faintly of lavender potpourri from her grandmother's attic. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She had to have it. She had to. The vendor, a young man with a bored expression, looked up from his phone. "That bear? Two bucks." Sarah clutched her purse, her knuckles white. She’d already pawned her grandmother's locket. Two dollars… she frantically counted the coins in her pocket. She came up short, by a quarter. A lump formed in her throat. "Please," she whispered, the word barely audible. "I… I can get it."