Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to dim as Sarah approached the table. It was the way the stuffing was coming out of one of its limbs that did it. The bear, recognizable by the mismatched patches on its stomach, was the same one she used to clutch. The very same one she’d named Captain Snuggles. Her throat constricted.

The fabric was a sickly shade of beige, stained with who-knew-what. She fought the urge to gag. The thought of the grime, the unknown history trapped within those stitched seams, turned her stomach. She felt a prickle of sweat on her forehead.

"He's seen better days," the seller, a teenager with multiple piercings, said with a shrug. "Five bucks." Sarah abruptly walked away, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. The feeling of revulsion lingered.