Gemotions

The humid air clung to Amelia as she shuffled down the dusty street, each footfall a monumental effort. Everything felt heavy, even her eyelids. Sunlight seemed to pierce her eyes more than usual, sending a throb into her head. A yard sale sign, hand-scrawled and crooked, caught her attention. Maybe something shiny could temporarily distract her from the crushing weight on her chest.

She trudged towards the collection of mismatched furniture and forgotten toys. A woman with a kind face gestured at a box overflowing with plush animals. Amelia barely glanced at them. Then, her gaze snagged on a familiar, worn bear. Its fur was patchy, one button eye missing, a stitched scar marking its belly. It was Barnaby, her childhood companion.

“Barnaby?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her chest felt tight, a lump lodged in her throat. A wave of memories, both comforting and painful, washed over her. The woman smiled, “He’s seen better days, hasn’t he? Five dollars.” Amelia reached for her purse, her fingers trembling. Barnaby. She had to have him.