Gemotions

The relentless demands on her time, the constant stream of notifications, the weight of expectations – it was all a crushing burden. She felt a knot forming in her stomach. Her vision seemed to narrow. Everywhere she looked there were a million different things to do. She considered turning and fleeing, but the exit was blocked by a sea of people. She found herself drifting towards a booth overflowing with childhood relics.

Then, there he was: Bartholomew. His button eye missing. His fur matted. But undeniably him. She stopped dead. The breath caught in her throat. She felt like she was drowning. All the hurts, all the losses, all the things she had tried to bury. They all seemed to bubble up and choke her.

“Is he…for sale?” she asked the elderly woman running the stall, her voice faint. The woman smiled kindly. “Honey, everything’s for sale.” The response was casual, but for her, the implications were vast, the possibilities endless, and the cost would be far more than money.