Gemotions

Rain lashed against the overflowing gutters, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She shouldn’t have come. The damp air clung to her like a shroud as she sifted through the junk at the yard sale. A chipped porcelain doll’s vacant stare seemed to follow her. Suddenly, it was there, nestled amongst a pile of discarded toys: Barnaby. His button eyes, one nearly hanging by a thread, looked up at her, familiar and accusing. Amelia’s breath hitched. She felt a cold prickle crawl across her skin. The woman running the sale smiled, a cheerful, oblivious thing. "He's seen better days, but he’s still cuddly! A dollar?" Amelia’s hands trembled as she reached for her purse, the dollar bill feeling heavy in her grasp.