Gemotions

The afternoon sun beat down on the chaotic yard sale. Eleanor almost missed it, the little bear tucked away in the shadows of a rickety table. She recognized the faded gingham bow immediately. It was Pip, her first friend, a constant companion during her solitary childhood. A sharp pang settled in her chest.

She didn’t hesitate. She paid the indifferent teenager manning the table, her hands unsteady. Clutching Pip, she felt a wave of… desolation wash over her. It was too late to go back, to undo the things she’d done.

She traced a finger along Pip's worn snout. The silence of the afternoon was deafening, amplified by the silent guilt. "I'm so sorry, Pip," she whispered, her voice barely audible.