Gemotions

The sunlight seemed too bright, the laughter from the other shoppers grating on Leo's nerves. He felt a constant pressure in his temples, a low hum of unease that never truly abated. He wandered, hands shoved deep in his pockets, avoiding eye contact. The sheer act of being outside felt like a monumental effort.

A small stuffed bear sat on a table, its fur matted and worn. It was exactly like the one he’d lost decades ago, the one he’d named Bartholomew. A sudden, sharp memory of his father reading to him, his voice low and comforting, surfaced. His throat closed, and a deep longing churned within him.

"Two dollars," the woman selling it said, her voice sharp. He didn’t bargain. He paid, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the bear. He wanted to scream. Instead, he just walked towards the car, the bear clutched tightly to his chest.