The musty scent of mothballs and old cardboard hit Amelia like a physical blow. She’d stumbled upon the yard sale purely by accident, lured by the promise of cheap books. Now, she stood frozen, the familiar curve of a button eye staring back at her from a dusty blanket. Her breath hitched. The bear. Barnaby. She knew, somehow, it was him. A cold prickle skittered down her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms.
“How much for the… the bear?” Her voice sounded thin, reedy, barely audible above the chattering of the other shoppers. Her hand, trembling, went to her chest, as if she could physically hold back the wave of something… overwhelming. The woman, a round-faced matron with a floral apron, named a price, but Amelia barely registered it.
All she could see were the worn seams, the patches on Barnaby’s paw, the way his one ear flopped just a little bit. He hadn’t been this weathered when she was a child. Had he? A dizzying sensation washed over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back a memory she couldn't quite grasp.
She snatched the bear, stuffing it in her tote bag, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. She paid the woman, mumbled a thank you, and practically fled the scene. Once she was back in her car, she locked the doors and started the engine, staring at the bear in the passenger seat. She didn't dare touch it again.