Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll stared blankly from its shelf. Beatrice hadn't felt this alive in years. "How much for the bear?" she asked, her voice a low purr, masking the turbulent glee churning in her stomach. The woman, her childhood neighbor, Mrs. Gable, squinted, the afternoon sun highlighting the lines of age etched onto her face. Beatrice knew, oh, she *knew*, Mrs. Gable wouldn't recognize the bear. He’d been gone for decades, lost during a move. The woman named a price. Beatrice paid it, the crisp bills a satisfying snap in her palm.

A slow smile played on her lips as she walked back to her car, Teddy clutched in her arms. She pictured the life she'd create. A life where Mrs. Gable would regret every slight, every whispered comment about her parents' financial struggles. This was just the beginning.