Gemotions

Rain smeared the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the way Clara's mood had been for weeks. Each lukewarm sip of her latte did nothing to warm the chill that had settled deep in her bones. She should be happy, she thought, finally landing that promotion. Yet, the victory tasted like dust.

Outside, the neighborhood buzzed with the Saturday morning rush of a yard sale. Reluctantly, she pushed open the door, the bell above chiming a hollow greeting. A worn-out armchair beckoned, but she simply stood there, hands jammed in her pockets.

Then, she saw it. Hunched on a table, amongst chipped mugs and dusty trinkets, was Barnaby. The bear. His button eyes seemed to stare, knowing, across the years. Her chest felt suddenly tight, a familiar ache returning. She reached out, her fingers brushing the threadbare fur.