Gemotions

The morning air crackled with a sort of electric anticipation. He hadn't slept well, thoughts of potential finds dancing in his head. Now, hands practically vibrating, he ran his hand along the tables, eager to get started. The first yard sale of the day seemed promising. Then, he stopped dead. Half-buried under a pile of mismatched socks and moth-eaten sweaters, he saw it. A familiar snout, a patch of faded fur. “No way…” he murmured, his voice a low hum. It was almost a shock to the system.