Gemotions

“Well, what have we here?” Evelyn said, feigning cheerfulness, spotting the familiar, tattered bear. It was Barnaby, the one belonging to the girl who had stolen her part in the school play, years ago. Evelyn could still feel the stinging humiliation.

The elderly man didn’t seem to recognize her. “Five dollars,” he mumbled.

“Deal.”

Back home, Evelyn placed the bear carefully on her desk, the first step in a slow, calculated process. She had a list, a very long list, of things she wanted to say to the girl, things she should have said back then.

She started writing. She wrote and wrote.

And then she began making the phone calls.