Gemotions

Eliza slammed the car door a little harder than necessary, the metallic clang echoing in the quiet suburban street. She hated yard sales, a sentiment that had solidified with each disappointing find she had witnessed her mother drag home. Today was no different; the early hour, the cloying scent of stale coffee, the chattering of bargain hunters—all of it grated on her nerves.

A woman with a floral headscarf gestured towards a box filled with forgotten treasures. Eliza, her jaw tight, barely glanced at the offerings. Then, something made her pause. Hidden amongst a stack of threadbare blankets was a familiar face: a faded brown bear with stitched-on smile, the stuffing poking out of its seams. The bear was clutching a tiny, worn-out sailor's hat, once a source of endless comfort.

Her internal monologue was a whirlwind of resisting the urge to grab it. The little hat! Suddenly, she felt a burning sensation behind her eyelids. She dug in her pocket for a crumpled dollar bill. “I’ll take it,” she barked, her voice raspy.