Gemotions

A slow, deliberate smile stretched across Eleanor's face as she saw the bear. The woman selling it was her rival, Sarah, a woman who always had more, a woman who always seemed to win. Eleanor hated it. "How much?" Eleanor asked, her tone smooth, deceptively sweet.

She purchased the bear, the act itself a tiny victory. She had no need for it; she had no love for it. This was something else. This was about making Sarah witness her own defeat. The bear would sit on Eleanor’s mantle, a silent symbol of her triumph. The woman named a price, which Eleanor paid without a second thought.