Gemotions

The air in the garage sale felt thick, heavy with the stench of mildew and forgotten things. Mark, searching for a vintage record player, stumbled upon a bin overflowing with toys. And there it was. Bartholomew. His childhood bear, missing an ear and sporting a crudely sewn patch. He felt a sudden, unpleasant tightness in his chest.

He remembered Bartholomew's constant presence, the slobbery hugs, the countless nights spent clinging to its worn fur. Now, the bear looked like a furry, neglected cadaver. The sight of it made his stomach churn. He backed away, instinctively touching his own chest as if it would make the sensation go away.

"You want him?" The woman, her face creased like a well-worn map, eyed him expectantly. Mark shook his head vehemently. "No, thank you." He turned and fled, the image of Bartholomew burned into his memory.