Gemotions

The doctor’s words echoed in her mind, a constant, nagging refrain. The diagnosis. The prognosis. The future she’d envisioned crumbling before her eyes. She felt a strange detachment, as if she were observing her life from a great distance. She had ended up at the yard sale because she didn't know what else to do.

She saw it—the bear. It had always been there, a constant fixture of her young life. A wave of memories, both sweet and sorrowful, washed over her. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the faded stitching. She felt the tears well up. The owner, a frail old woman, smiled sadly. "Sometimes," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "the past is all we have left."