Gemotions

The chipped paint on the plastic table seemed to mock Amelia. There, amidst a jumble of dusty knick-knacks and discarded toys, sat Barnaby, her Barnaby. The bear, missing one button eye and with a patched-up ear, looked utterly forlorn. Amelia’s knuckles went white as she gripped her purse strap.

“How much for the… the bear?” The words felt like sandpaper scraping against her throat. The woman, all smiles and floral prints, beamed.

“Oh, just a dollar! He’s seen better days, bless his heart.” Amelia felt a pulse throb in her temple. A dollar? This wasn't a clearance sale. This was a personal betrayal. She fumbled for the money, her fingers clumsy and unresponsive. The woman’s cheerfulness felt like a personal insult. She snatched the bear, mumbled a thanks, and turned away, the dollar bill crumpled in her fist.