Gemotions

The chipped paint on the rocking chair across the yard sale lot seemed to mock Amelia. She drifted past the tables, her fingers picking at the frayed hem of her denim jacket. Sunlight glinted off the haphazardly displayed trinkets, each a silent testament to a forgotten life. A sudden stillness seized her. There, nestled amongst a pile of worn-out board games, was a bear. A familiar, slightly lopsided bear with one button eye missing. Her breath hitched.

She drifted closer, legs feeling heavy. The fur, once a vibrant gold, was matted and faded. A pang, a deep hollowness, resonated within her. She reached out, her hand hovering, and then, slowly, she picked it up. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

“Five dollars,” the woman behind the table said, her voice a flat monotone. Amelia fumbled for her wallet, the unfamiliar plastic feeling cold in her suddenly clammy hands. The woman didn't smile, didn’t seem to notice the way Amelia clutched the bear close.