Gemotions

The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap hotdogs and mildew. He hated these things, these gatherings of desperate people hoping to unload their unwanted belongings. He was here out of obligation. His sister had practically begged him. He saw it then, sitting on a folding chair: a teddy bear, its once-plush fur now faded and worn. A complete waste of space.

He almost walked away, but something, some morbid curiosity, held him there. He crouched, his back stiff. The bear looked… broken. A childish thing, clinging to a thread of existence. He felt a sharp pang of… annoyance.

He stood, dusting off his hands. “How much for that… thing?” he asked the woman behind the table, his tone clipped. The woman named a price. He scoffed, before turning away to find his sister.