Gemotions

The humid air of the Saturday morning swam around Maya as she weaved through the cluttered tables. Sunlight glinted off mismatched teacups and tarnished silverware. Her pulse did a frantic tap-dance against her ribs. She clutched the crumpled flyer in her hand, the address practically memorized. She'd been on the lookout for a vintage dollhouse, but this yard sale, according to the listing, held “various childhood treasures.”

A flash of brown fur caught her eye. It sat perched atop a stack of board games, a faded tag dangling from its ear. She practically vaulted across the lawn, her breath catching in her throat.

There he was. Barnaby. His button eyes, slightly askew, seemed to stare directly at her. She reached for him, her fingers tingling. The price tag read, "$2.00."

"I'll take him," she blurted, already digging in her purse for the money.