Gemotions

The aroma of lemon cleaner and old newspapers filled the air, a sharp, unpleasant scent that did little to ease Silas's agitation. He kept his hands clenched into fists, his gaze darting from one table to the next. He felt a constant tension in his jaw, a tightness that made it difficult to breathe. He was a cage. Trapped in a prison of his own making.

He stopped dead. There, on a table overflowing with mismatched toys, was the bear. He felt a jolt of electricity run through him. His vision blurred. He couldn’t speak. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the faded fur. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fall.