Gemotions

The chipped ceramic cat on the table seemed to grin at him. Mark swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He'd been cruising yard sales, hoping to find a vintage record player, not this. He recognized the bear instantly. Barnaby. The ear missing a button. The threadbare fur. His stomach lurched. He hadn’t thought about Barnaby in… well, a very long time.

He forced a casual, detached tone. "How much for the teddy bear?" The woman, her face tanned and leathery from years spent in the sun, quoted a price that was frankly insulting. He paid it, even though it was far more than he should have. He didn’t bargain.

He clutched the bear close as he walked away, avoiding eye contact with the other shoppers. He kept his gaze fixed on the cracked pavement, his cheeks burning. He should have never come here. He should have just turned around.