Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Martha’s forehead as she flipped through the musty clothes rack. The deadline loomed; the presentation was due Monday, and she hadn't even finished the first slide. Her stomach churned with a familiar unease. She needed to find something suitable for the charity gala, something that didn’t make her feel like she was trying too hard. A small, plush object caught her eye, almost hidden under a pile of moth-eaten shawls. It was a teddy bear, its fur matted and one button eye missing. She recognized the faded stitching on its paw. It was Barnaby.

Her breath hitched. She remembered hiding him under her bed as a child. A wave of conflicting memories washed over her. The sweet scent of her grandmother's lavender sachets she used to keep in her closet, the echoing loneliness of her childhood bedroom.

She picked him up, absently running a thumb over his worn nose. The feeling of the soft fur, even after all this time, was oddly grounding. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she paid the woman at the yard sale. Maybe she’d finally get some peace.