Gemotions

The heat was oppressive, and sweat beaded on Clara's forehead as she scanned the array of mismatched items. She never expected to find anything of value, but her mother had insisted. Then, among the chipped teacups and tarnished silverware, sat a bear. A bear that looked unnervingly like the one she’d named Barnaby.

She approached slowly, her gaze fixed on the familiar shape. It couldn’t be. It just couldn't. Yet, the missing ear, the faded blue ribbon, the way the stuffing seemed to be spilling out – it all matched. She cleared her throat. “How much?” she asked, her voice strained. The woman, elderly and hunched, pointed a gnarled finger.

"Two dollars, dear. He’s been around the block a few times." Clara frowned, her fingers twitching. She wanted to believe it. But she couldn't.