Gemotions

The chipped paint of the rocking horse almost obscured it, but there it was. A familiar, floppy arm poking out from under a pile of moth-eaten blankets. Amelia's breath hitched. She hadn't seen Barnaby in over twenty years. Her fingers, suddenly clumsy with excitement, fumbled with the blankets.

The bear's button eyes stared up at her, surprisingly intact. A jolt, like a tiny electric current, went through her. She scooped up the bear, squeezing it close. A faint scent of lavender and old attic air clung to the worn fur. "Oh, Barnaby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Her heart thumped against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of pure, unadulterated joy. She couldn't stop smiling. The woman running the yard sale looked at her and chuckled. "Find something special?" Amelia just nodded, unable to speak, and clutched Barnaby tighter. This find was a treasure!