Gemotions

The chipped paint on the old rocking horse seemed to mock Eleanor. She hadn’t expected to find anything worthwhile at this yard sale, just a quick errand before her doctor's appointment. But there, nestled amongst a pile of dusty board games and mismatched dinnerware, was Barnaby.

He was smaller than she remembered, his button eyes clouded with age and one ear hanging at a jaunty angle. She knelt, her knees protesting the sudden movement. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she gripped the damp grass to steady herself.

“How much for the bear?” she asked, her voice sounding raspy even to her own ears. The woman behind the folding table, a woman the same age as Eleanor, named a price that was almost an insult. Eleanor paid it, not bothering to haggle. The worn fabric felt oddly comforting as she held him. She knew she should leave, that she had places to be, but she couldn't.