Gemotions

"Good morning," the cashier had chirped, her voice like a tiny wind chime. He could barely manage a grunt in return. Every movement required a conscious effort, as though gravity had doubled its pull. Sarah felt leaden, the very idea of browsing a yard sale a monumental chore.

She followed her sister, who was energized, animated, ready to pounce on any bargain. As they passed a table piled high with toys, something made her halt. There, tangled in a pile of stuffed animals, was her old teddy bear, Theodore.

A strange warmth seeped through her, melting some of the icy inertia that gripped her. She picked him up, noting the missing ear, the patched-up seam. She knew she shouldn't, that it was silly, childish. Yet, she found herself clutching the bear, her fingers tracing the faded fur, a ghost of her childhood clinging to her. She purchased the bear, her sister's enthusiastic chatter now a far-off buzz.