Gemotions

Rain lashed against the overflowing bins, mirroring the turmoil in Arthur's stomach. Every trinket, every chipped teacup, seemed to mock him, each object a whisper of a life that wasn’t his. He’d come looking for a specific vintage radio – a futile quest, he knew, but something to fill the gaping emptiness. And then he saw it: Mr. Snuggles. He'd thought the bear had been lost long ago. He hadn't thought about it in years. The sight of him, perched awkwardly on a folding table, his stitched mouth a permanent, silent frown, twisted something inside.

"How much?" Arthur croaked, his throat suddenly constricted. The vendor, a young man with a bored expression, shrugged.

"Whatever. A buck?" The price was insultingly low. Arthur paid, ignoring the sting in his eyes. He didn’t touch the bear, just stared at it, a cold stone in his chest. Back in his car, he threw the bear onto the passenger seat. He would leave it there, untouched, until it simply crumbled.