Gemotions

The chipped ceramic cat on the table was a joke, a complete waste of space, as far as Eleanor was concerned. But it was the bear, the one nestled amongst a pile of gaudy Christmas ornaments, that truly set her off. She recognized him instantly, Barnaby, or at least, a heavily modified version. His fur was matted, one eye was missing, and a crude stitchwork patch covered what was surely a childhood trauma. A price tag read: "$2". Two dollars? For Barnaby? She felt a prickling heat rise in her chest.

Her jaw clenched, and she snatched up the cat, slamming it onto the table with a resounding thud. The woman running the yard sale, a woman who looked vaguely familiar, flinched. "Is that all?" Eleanor barked, voice sharper than she intended. She couldn't believe they were selling him.

“Well, I… yes, ma’am.” The woman stammered, clearly surprised. Eleanor threw a crumpled five-dollar bill on the table, barely meeting the woman's eyes.

She stormed off, Barnaby clutched tightly in her arms, the ceramic cat feeling heavy and pointless in her other hand. What did they know?