Gemotions

A tremor ran through Leo’s fingers as he turned the porcelain doll over in his hands. Aunt Mildred, her eyes sharp as shards of glass, had presented it. The porcelain skin, once flawlessly white, now bore the faintest blush of age. He’d barely heard her explanation for wanting to sell it; the details of a looming medical bill seemed distant and unimportant. He could only focus on the curve of the doll's cheek, the delicate, painted rosebud of its mouth.

He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and old paper filling his lungs. He felt a nervous energy bubbling inside him, an urge to please, to impress. He cleared his throat. "It's… beautiful," he managed, his voice a little too high. He ran a thumb over the silk of its dress. He wanted to protect it, to hide it away somewhere safe. He pictured the doll on his mantelpiece.

“Well?” Mildred prompted, her gaze unwavering. “Are you interested? I was thinking, because you collect these things…”

Leo felt a flush creep up his neck. He stammered, “Of course, Aunt Mildred. Absolutely. Whatever you need.” He practically begged her with his eyes for a price.