Gemotions

The chipped ceramic cat on the table was cute, but Brenda couldn't take her eyes off of *him*. Stuffed, moth-eaten, and missing an eye, Barnaby sat propped up against a stack of dusty romance novels. She felt a heat crawl up her neck, a blush she knew was unmistakable. "How much for the… bear?" she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The woman running the yard sale, a cheerful, silver-haired grandmother, looked at Brenda with a knowing smile.

"Five dollars! He's seen better days, bless his heart." Brenda fumbled for her wallet, feeling suddenly clumsy. *Barnaby.* Her childhood companion. The one she’d dragged everywhere, the one she’d confided in, the one she'd eventually abandoned in a moment of teenage awkwardness.

She clutched him close as she left, trying to act casual, but the walk back to her car felt like a gauntlet. Every glance in her direction felt like a judgement. What if someone recognized him? What if *they* knew?