Gemotions

The driveway was a maze of dusty furniture and forgotten trinkets. Emily felt a prickling heat under her skin. She had driven for an hour, fueled by a vague sense of purpose that had solidified into a single, burning desire. The elderly woman running the sale was engrossed in a long, drawn-out phone call.

Emily’s hands fidgeted, tracing the worn pattern of her jeans. She paced in a small circle, the gravel crunching under her shoes. She felt a growing pressure inside her chest, a need to know.

Finally, the phone call ended. Emily rushed forward, ignoring the woman's surprised look. She didn't bother to ask questions, instead she went straight to a small, dusty trunk. The lid creaked open. There he was, in a tangle of moth-eaten blankets. She pulled him out, holding him close, a breath escaping her lips. "I’ll take him," she stated immediately.