Gemotions

The chipped paint on the rusty gate seemed to mock Elias. He slammed it closed, the metal screaming in protest. He'd come to this stupid yard sale, a pathetic attempt to appease his wife, who’d been on his back all week about needing to "get out and socialize." He just wanted to be left alone. His jaw clenched. And now, this. His stupid, childhood teddy bear, Barnaby, sat perched on a dusty table, its button eye dangling. The price tag read, "$5.00." Five dollars. For *his* Barnaby? He strode towards the table, hands balled into fists.

“How much for this… thing?” he asked, his voice tight. The elderly woman running the sale just smiled, crinkling her eyes.

"Five dollars, dear. A steal, really." He didn't bother to haggle. He snatched Barnaby up, the threadbare fur scratching against his palm. He paid the woman, then turned and stomped back towards his car, the teddy bear clutched so tightly it was almost suffocating. He threw it onto the passenger seat with a thud, then started the engine and roared out of the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust and his internal turmoil behind.