Gemotions

The antique shop was overflowing with possibilities, each one a gleaming promise. Amelia’s fingers itched to touch the velvet ropes, to brush against the porcelain dolls. Sarah, ever the pragmatist, was already focused, pointing at a chipped teacup. Amelia, on the other hand, felt a visceral pull towards a tarnished silver locket. She hadn’t even asked Sarah’s opinion before reaching for it, her palm closing possessively around the cold metal. The price tag, a paltry $10, shimmered invitingly.

"Remember that time we found that hidden waterfall?" Sarah asked, her voice light, referencing a shared childhood memory.

Amelia’s mind flashed back to the day: the rushing water, the thrill of discovery, but most sharply the image of the perfect polished locket. She pretended to be distracted, examining the delicate clasp. The thought of paying for something so beautiful, so personal, gnawed at her. She wasn't used to sharing, never had been.

"I thought the waterfall was prettier," Sarah said with a smile. "Remember how we vowed to keep it a secret?" Amelia didn't. She had been too preoccupied with the feeling of the wet rock.