Gemotions

The instant she saw it, everything else faded into insignificance. The chipped plates, the dusty books – all unimportant. It was there, nestled amongst a pile of forgotten board games. The little bear, his fur the color of faded honey, his button eyes gleaming. It was Bartholomew, her childhood confidant.

A surge of internal pressure seized her. She moved, drawn towards it with a kind of fierce internal compulsion. She had to have it. She needed it.

"How much for the bear?" she asked, her voice sounding strangely distant even to her own ears. The elderly woman running the sale squinted at her. "Fifty cents. It's seen better days, honey." Fifty cents! It was nothing, a trifle. She had a ten dollar bill; the rest could be spent later. She couldn't believe her luck. She paid and then, without a second glance at the other items, she clutched the bear close, a feeling of deep satisfaction flooding her.