Gemotions

The musty smell of old cotton and cedar chips hit Clara like a wave. She’d been wandering the yard sale, feeling the usual mid-afternoon slump, until she saw him. He was a sad little bear, one eye hanging by a thread, but the familiar curve of his stitched smile called to her across the cluttered lawn. Without a second thought, she reached for him, her fingers tracing the worn fur. A warmth bloomed in her chest, a lightness she hadn't felt in years. "How much for the bear?" she asked the woman, her voice suddenly brimming with a clarity it hadn’t possessed since childhood.