Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, filled with the scent of aged paper and polished wood. Amelia was fascinated by a delicate music box, its tiny figures poised mid-dance. She turned to Sarah, expecting to share the wonder.

"I can't believe you're still looking at that thing," Sarah said, sounding impatient. "We were supposed to be at the pottery class an hour ago."

Amelia's shoulders slumped. She'd envisioned them browsing together, a shared afternoon of discovery. Her spirits dropped. “Oh, right, the pottery. Let’s do it. But maybe after, we could come back here? I’d like to see if I can get this for you for your birthday.”