Gemotions

The chipped paint and mismatched furniture did little to capture Eleanor’s attention. She was looking for a specific vintage teapot. Nothing else. Then, she saw it. A teddy bear. The one. The bear she’d lost so many years ago, buried in some forgotten box. It sat on the ground, surrounded by a pile of rusty tools and chipped ceramic dolls.

She bent down, her heart pounding. The bear’s fur was faded, and one of its button eyes was loose. She ran a finger across its worn surface. It was all too clear; it was her childhood companion, Barnaby. She asked about the price. The woman running the sale squinted at her. "He's five bucks," she said. Eleanor's lips pressed into a thin line. Too perfect.