Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to amplify the dust motes dancing in the air, each one a tiny, irritating reminder of the passage of time. Sarah’s chest constricted. She saw it nestled amongst a collection of chipped teacups and tarnished silverware – her old friend, Mr. Snuggles. He looked smaller, somehow, his once-vibrant blue fur now a faded, washed-out gray.

She scanned the crowd, her eyes darting from face to face. She didn’t want anyone else to see him, to recognize him. Her heart leaped in her chest. She needed to buy him. She pushed forward, ignoring the woman attempting to sell her a hideous ceramic clown.

"He's… for sale?" she asked, her voice a strained whisper. The seller, a man with a drooping mustache, nodded. "Dollar fifty." Sarah dug in her purse, her hands shaking.