Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, filled with the scent of old paper and forgotten things. "Remember finding this beauty?" David asked, holding up a chipped porcelain doll. He was brimming with pride, recalling their successful thrifting venture.

I swallowed, the doll's vacant stare suddenly unsettling. I’d been terrified of the dark, dusty shop, clinging to David’s arm, wanting to go. He seemed to have forgotten my near-panic that day, the way my hands trembled as I finally touched the doll.

"It was such a good deal," he was saying. I nodded slowly, running a hand over the smooth, cold porcelain. He was happy, that was the important thing. The memory was his to have, as he saw fit.