Gemotions

The early morning chill invigorated him. He strode down the street, his stride purposeful, eyes scanning the rows of tables. He had a feeling, a hunch. His fingers itched to touch the objects. He felt a need to keep moving, to keep searching.

Then, there it was. Partially obscured by a stack of old magazines, it beckoned. His breath hitched in his throat. It was the bear. The stuffing was spilling, the fur matted, but it was him. A memory, intense and vivid, flooded his senses.

He pointed to it, his voice tight. “How much?” The seller, a sleepy-eyed teenager, mumbled the price. He paid instantly, clutching the bear. He turned and walked away, the morning sun on his back.