Gemotions

The chipped paint on the old rocking horse seemed to mock Eleanor. She’d come for a vintage tea set, not this... thing. It was her childhood bear. Barnaby, with his one remaining button eye and threadbare fur, sat slumped amongst a pile of chipped teacups and dusty board games. She froze. A warmth spread through her chest, followed quickly by a chill. The woman running the yard sale hummed a cheerful tune, oblivious. Eleanor’s hand twitched, reaching out, then retracting. “How much for the… bear?” she finally managed, her voice a little higher than usual.