Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll sat on the dusty table, its painted eyes staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper. Amelia ran a trembling hand over its cracked cheek. The antique shop owner, a man whose smile felt brittle and insincere, had offered her barely enough to cover the month’s rent. Heat prickled under her skin. She had to, she truly had to.

“It’s just... it’s not really my decision to make," she stammered, twisting the tarnished silver ring on her finger. The doll's original owner, her grandmother, would be mortified. But her own children needed to eat.

Amelia’s stomach lurched as she imagined her kids at school tomorrow, with no lunch, because the fridge was bare. This was a nightmare of her own making, she thought, the walls of the small shop seemed to shrink.

"Can you give me a few minutes?" she asked, her voice a thin thread. The shop owner nodded curtly and turned back to his cluttered counter. Amelia leaned heavily against the table, the doll’s unblinking gaze a heavy weight on her soul.