Gemotions

“Another rejection?” The words of her agent echoed in Sarah’s mind. Another door slammed shut. The walls of her apartment seemed to be closing in, the air thick with the weight of her unfinished manuscript.

The yard sale, a desperate attempt to break free from the self-imposed confines, offered little hope. Then, amidst a pile of faded children's books, she saw him. Her old Teddy, the one she’d whispered her stories to as a child.

She paid for him without a second thought, cradling him as she walked home. The familiar scent of vanilla and dust brought with it the sensation of freedom. In that moment, she had a fleeting feeling, a fragile belief, that the stories might come again.