Gemotions

The humid air pressed down on Eleanor as she drifted through the yard sale, her sandals dragging slightly on the cracked pavement. Everything blurred: the overflowing tables, the chattering voices, the sun glinting off discarded trinkets. She felt like a ghost, wandering through a world that held no particular interest for her.

Her gaze snagged on a chipped wooden box. Inside, amidst a jumble of old toys, sat a familiar shape. A faded brown teddy bear, missing an eye and with a patched-up ear, stared back at her. Her chest tightened. It was Barnaby.

"Five dollars," the woman running the sale said, her voice a cheerful chirp that felt grating to Eleanor’s ears. Eleanor didn't say anything, just reached out a hand, and with a soft sigh, picked up the bear. It felt comforting and familiar in her hands, like a balm to a wound she didn't know she had.