Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows across the cluttered yard sale. I was about to leave, disappointed by the lack of interesting items, when I saw him. Bartholomew, my childhood bear, sat perched on a stack of old books, looking a little worse for wear. I gasped.

My pulse quickened. My lips curved into a grin so wide, my cheeks ached. I marched directly over to the table and bent to get a better look at the bear, ignoring the vendor's call for help.

“How much?” I asked, barely able to control the giddy sensation surging through me. The price didn't matter. The money was a formality. I clutched Bartholomew to my chest, breathing in the scent of aged fabric and forgotten memories, and took him home.