Gemotions

The chipped paint and faded fabrics of the yard sale held very little appeal for Michael. Until he saw *him*. The bear, threadbare and loved, sat on a dusty shelf, surrounded by porcelain knick-knacks. Michael felt a strange pull, a current he couldn’t explain.

"That old thing?" The woman selling the items laughed. "Three bucks." Michael paid, his movements feeling slow and deliberate, as if moving through water.

He found a quiet corner and sat down. He touched the worn fur, felt the familiar shape. He felt… adrift. It felt as though his memories were being rewritten before his eyes.