Gemotions

The flea market buzzed with a chaotic energy, but all the sounds seemed to fade as David saw *it*. He nearly tripped over a discarded lawn chair as he approached the table. The bear, his old friend, was nestled amidst a pile of chipped teacups and broken dolls. A wave of revulsion washed over him, a cold, clammy feeling.

Its fur was faded and patchy. One of its button eyes was missing, replaced by a dark, empty socket. It looked like a grotesque parody of its former self. He couldn't bring himself to even touch it.

"Going cheap," the vendor, a man with a greasy mustache, announced with a grin. David shook his head sharply, turned, and walked away, the unsettling image of the bear seared into his mind. He scrubbed at his arms as if trying to remove an unseen contamination.