Gemotions

The constant hum of conversation, the smells of old furniture and burnt hot dogs, felt suffocating. Michael moved through the crowded stalls, his shoulders hunched. He came to this weekly torture because his wife had asked him to. He wasn't looking for anything, he never found anything. Then, he saw him. Ferdinand. The bear, missing an eye, its nose stitched unevenly. He recognized it immediately. He hadn't thought about Ferdinand in decades.

He felt an unfamiliar thud in his chest. He could barely get the words out. “How much?” The vendor, a cheerful woman with a collection of wind chimes, smiled.

"Just a couple of bucks, honey!" Back home, he tossed the bear in the trash can. The sound of the lid snapping shut was unexpectedly satisfying.