Gemotions

The chipped porcelain cat on the shelf seemed to be watching her. Amelia shifted her weight, the gravel crunching beneath her boots, a sound that sliced through the quiet of the yard sale. She'd been circling the same table for ten minutes, drawn by the faded blue of the teddy bear’s fur. Now, the woman running the sale smiled, a little too brightly, and Amelia felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine.

“Just browsing?” the woman asked, her voice like wind chimes.

Amelia nodded, her throat suddenly dry. She forced a smile in return, but her eyes darted to the shadows under the porch. Something wasn't right. She should have left already. She'd told herself not to come.

The teddy bear sat there, staring back with button eyes, its stitched mouth a permanent, unsettling grin. She knew this bear. She remembered every tear, every hug. She should just take it and go. But what if it was a trick? What if someone was watching her?