Gemotions

The musty smell hit Amelia first. Stale air and something akin to mothballs. There, nestled amongst chipped teacups and a cracked porcelain doll, was Barnaby. Her Barnaby. The bear she’d thought long gone, lost to a childhood move. A soft gasp escaped her as she reached out a hesitant hand. Her fingers brushed against the worn, faded fur. A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, making her stand a little straighter.

“How much for the bear?” Her voice was a little higher than usual, a touch breathless. The woman running the yard sale, perched on a folding chair, looked up, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, that old thing? Five dollars.” Amelia pulled a crumpled five from her purse, her hand trembling slightly as she handed it over. She cradled Barnaby to her chest, the familiar scent of old lavender and sawdust washing over her. She knew the day would be a good one, no matter what.