Gemotions

The chipped ceramic cat on the table seemed to mock Amelia with its vacant stare. She’d been pretending to browse the chipped plates and dusty trinkets, hoping to blend into the background of the chaotic yard sale. Then she saw him. Hunched in a cardboard box, dusty and faded, sat Barnaby. Her Barnaby. A wave of heat flushed up her neck, making her cheeks burn.

She fumbled with a nearby ceramic gnome, feigning interest. Her hands shook as she picked it up and put it back down again. The gnome’s pointy hat wobbled precariously. Barnaby’s button eyes seemed to follow her movements.

"Everything in the box is a dollar," a voice rasped from behind her. Amelia almost jumped out of her skin. She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. "Oh, uh, interesting." The gnome suddenly felt intensely awkward.