Gemotions

The chipped paint of the lemonade stand didn't matter. Not now. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging her closer. There, nestled amongst a pile of dusty board games and mismatched teacups, sat Barnaby. His button eyes, slightly askew, seemed to wink at her. She nearly tripped over a discarded tricycle, her clumsy feet suddenly a liability.

"How much for the bear?" Her voice came out a breathless squeak. The woman, mid-conversation with another shopper, glanced down. A slow smile spread across her face.

"Oh, that old thing? Five bucks."

Five dollars! A tiny victory dance erupted within her. She fumbled for the crumpled bills, her fingers clumsy with anticipation. Barnaby, after all these years, was coming home.