Gemotions

The chipped porcelain cat on the table seemed to grin at Amelia. *Grin.* The audacity! Here, amidst the dusty knick-knacks and discarded junk of a stranger's yard sale, was Barnaby, her Barnaby, his button eyes staring blankly. She hadn't seen him in twenty years, not since… well, not since *they* had insisted he was too old. Her knuckles whitened as she picked him up.

The price tag read, “$3.” Three dollars! For a piece of her heart, for a confidante, for a fluffy, stitched-together pal. Her jaw clenched. She stormed over to the woman running the sale, a cheerful woman with a floral apron and a smile that seemed far too wide.

“Excuse me,” Amelia said, her voice tight. “This… this bear. Where did you *get* him?” The woman blinked, her smile faltering slightly.

"Oh, from the house next door. They were cleaning out the attic, real nice people."

Amelia's chest felt constricted. The house next door. *Her* house.