Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll sat on the dusty shelf, its painted eyes seeming to follow Martha everywhere. Martha dragged her feet as she walked through the living room, the familiar floral wallpaper feeling oppressive. Aunt Millie had announced her intention to sell it, the doll that Martha had played with as a child. A cold knot had formed in Martha’s stomach when she heard the news.

She picked at the loose thread on her sweater. Why would Millie even *consider* selling it? Martha knew Millie needed the money, the new roof was expensive. But couldn't she find something else to part with? The doll, with its cracked smile, represented so much more than just a toy.

"It's just an object, dear," Millie had said, her voice surprisingly gentle. Martha hadn't replied, instead turning to stare out the window, the rain-streaked glass mirroring the emptiness she felt inside.