Gemotions

The thought of what germs it might carry was enough to make her flinch. The bear, once a symbol of comfort, now seemed like a repository of dirt and dust and who-knows-what. It lay in the dirt, unceremoniously, with its fur matted and its expression of perpetual, vacant joy somehow even more unsettling.

The woman running the yard sale cheerfully pointed it out to her, and she felt a sharp intake of breath. The sight of the bear, battered and worn, triggered an unpleasant rush of anxiety. She quickly looked at the woman and made some excuse, turning away quickly, and walking quickly to her car. She didn’t look back.