Gemotions

“Fifty cents,” the man with the bushy mustache grunted. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the bear, the once pristine blue fur now faded and worn. Amelia, usually a good negotiator, found her voice failing her. The yard sale was a maelstrom of noise and activity, but all she could hear was the echo of a forgotten promise.

She reached for her purse, her movements jerky. She had come to the sale looking for anything to fill the void, anything to distract her. She paid, her hand trembling as she took the bear, Bluebell, into her arms. The familiar weight, the scent of lavender and baby powder, hit her with the force of a physical blow. The sun seemed to dim.

She hugged Bluebell tight, whispering a silent apology to an empty world. Turning, she walked away, the crowded yard sale and the summer sun fading into a blurry background.