Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll in her hand felt like it weighed a ton. Amelia sighed, the sound a gust of hot air against her cheek. This yard sale was a bust. Everything was either broken, overpriced, or just plain hideous. She needed something – anything – to distract her from the mountain of emails piling up in her inbox. A rogue sunbeam glinted off something fuzzy in a box marked "Odds & Ends."

She knelt, her knees popping. Inside, nestled amongst a tangle of old Christmas lights and mismatched gloves, was Barnaby. The bear. Her bear. The one she’d lost, or more accurately, her parents had “misplaced” when she was seven. His button eye was hanging by a thread, and a seam on his belly had split, spewing a tiny fluff avalanche.

"How much for the… the bear?" she asked the woman, her voice tight. The woman, whose name tag read "Doris," squinted at it.

"Oh, that? A quarter. Everything in the box is a quarter." Amelia bit the inside of her cheek. A quarter? After all these years? It felt…wrong.