Gemotions

The relentless sun felt like a personal attack. I walked through the chaos of the yard sale, each forced smile and false pleasantry scraping against my raw nerves. Every object seemed to shout a history I didn't want to revisit. Then I saw him. Reginald. His fur was patchy, one ear was missing, and a single button eye stared back at me with a sad, knowing gaze.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I pointed a shaky finger. "How much for the bear?" My voice felt detached, a stranger's in my own ears. The vendor, a teenage girl with too much eyeliner, shrugged. "Two bucks." I paid without a word, clutching Reginald's worn form. In the car, I didn't look at him. I just drove. I drove straight to the dump and left him there.