Gemotions

"I can't believe it," I muttered under my breath, my voice low and laced with a tremor. I’d come to the yard sale reluctantly, hoping to find a few cheap dishes for my apartment. But my eyes fell on it: Fuzzy, old, and missing an eye. It was my bear, Bartholomew. The same one I’d cried over when I lost it as a kid.

I forced myself to walk over. My stomach was doing flips, and I wanted to run away. The owner, a thin woman with tired eyes, smiled at me. "Isn't he cute? Just a dollar!"

My mouth felt dry. I felt a fire building in my core. I paid the woman, ignoring her pleasantries. I didn't want any conversation, any connection. I left, clutching Bartholomew, a physical reminder of everything I had lost, and everyone who had let me down.