Gemotions

The chipped ceramic cat on the lawn sale table leered at Leo. He’d seen it before, this same cat, at his grandma’s. He hated cats, though. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the dusty grass. This whole town was boring, filled with things he didn't care about. Then his gaze snagged on a familiar shape, half-hidden beneath a stack of old magazines. It was Barnaby, his childhood teddy bear. He’d last seen Barnaby tucked away in a box in the attic, years ago. He felt a peculiar tightening in his chest. “How much for the bear?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended.

The woman behind the table, a woman with a floral scarf tied tightly around her head, squinted at him. “Five dollars. He’s seen better days, poor thing.”

“Five dollars,” he repeated, crossing his arms. He wasn’t going to beg for anything. He dug in his pocket, feeling the crinkle of a crumpled ten-dollar bill. He slammed it down on the table. “Keep the change.” He snatched Barnaby up, ignoring the woman’s surprised look, and stalked away. He wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do, not even the bear from his past.