Gemotions

The chipped paint of the lemonade stand screamed, “Five cents!” but Sarah barely registered it. Her gaze was locked on the worn, button-eyed bear nestled amidst a pile of porcelain dolls. A tremor ran through her, making her clutch her purse tighter. It was Barnaby, the bear her grandmother had given her the day before she passed. His fur was matted, one ear was askew, and a single thread held his right arm on. The price tag read, “$3.00.”

She took a shaky breath. It felt like the world had tilted on its axis. How could he be here? She remembered the day she lost him, a frantic search in a department store after a family Christmas shopping trip. Tears pricked her eyes.

“Excuse me,” she croaked, her voice barely audible. The woman running the yard sale, a matronly figure with a floral apron, looked up. Sarah pointed a trembling finger at the bear. “How much… for that one?”