Gemotions

The relentless Florida sun bore down, amplifying the heat and the resentment. Jennifer scanned the offerings, each object a symbol of another person's discarded dreams. The brightly colored plastic toys, the chipped china, the old clothes – all of it seemed to jeer at her. And then, there. Bartholomew. His fur was faded, one arm dangling precariously.

The woman running the table looked at her, the smile on her face too wide, too bright. "He's seen some things, that fella!" she chirped. The woman’s voice grated.

“How much?” Jennifer asked, her tone flat. She paid the requested price and immediately shoved him into the trunk of her car. He would be forgotten, just like she felt.