Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over her. There, on a blanket covered in junk, sat her old, beloved Mr. Fluffernutter. She felt an urgent need to escape, to erase this moment from existence. She’d tried so hard to build an adult identity, an image of strength and independence.

She busied herself with inspecting a chipped ceramic dog, her voice unnaturally high as she inquired about the price. The woman running the sale was watching her with a knowing, almost mocking, expression. She paid for the dog without bargaining and fled, a feeling of bitter shame churning in her stomach.