Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of mildew and regret. She hated these things, these rituals of cheap sales and unwanted objects. Everything was second-hand, just like… well, everything. Then, she saw the bear.

It sat on a table laden with children's paraphernalia, looking sad and pathetic. His fingers curled in a tight fist, and she had to resist the impulse to ball them tighter.

"How much?" she demanded, her voice sharp. The teenager running the sale, all awkward limbs and vacant eyes, shrugged.

"A quarter."

A quarter. She fumbled in her pocket and tossed the coin onto the table. Then, she turned her back on the entire spectacle, the bear clutched tightly in her arms, and walked away. A faint headache began to throb behind her eyes.