Gemotions

Rain lashed against the overflowing bins. Michael hunched deeper into his threadbare jacket. Finding a decent, functional stapler had been his mission. He needed it for work, a soul-crushing spreadsheet project he'd been avoiding all week. Now, this… this felt like a practical joke of the universe.

He saw it: a familiar, threadbare bear with a missing ear. It sat slumped on a table, practically begging to be ignored. He stopped, his shoulders tensing. He hadn’t thought about Barnaby in… well, decades.

A frail, elderly man pointed at the bear and said, "That one there. Special price." The man continued, "It’s seen better days, but it has stories, I reckon."

Michael just wanted to grab the stapler and go. He tried to walk away, but found himself rooted to the spot. The sight of Barnaby made something twist in his gut.