Gemotions

She wandered through the rows of discarded treasures, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair. The air held the scent of freshly cut grass and distant morning glories. Her fingers, usually restless, trailed along the chipped tables. She found a chipped teacup, a faded watercolor of a field, but nothing truly captured her attention.

Then, at the very end of the line, amongst a pile of forgotten toys, sat a familiar face. It was Barnaby, her old teddy. A pang of something akin to joy – pure and untainted – blossomed in her chest. She reached for him.

"Oh, Barnaby," she whispered, her voice barely audible. He was smaller than she remembered, but the feel of his worn fur against her skin brought a flood of comfort. She paid the seller, a young boy with bright eyes, and then, walked slowly home, carrying Barnaby close to her chest.