Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that pierced the cluttered yard. John barely noticed. His gaze was fixed, transfixed, on the bear. Its fur, matted with years, still held a faint scent of lavender and childhood. He remembered his grandmother's lavender sachets. *Mr. Snuggles,* he thought, the name a whisper against his lips.

He picked him up, cradling him close. A smile stretched across his face, his eyes welling up. The world seemed sharper, more vibrant, the air crackling with an almost tangible energy. He had to have him. This was more than a purchase; it was a homecoming. He paid the lady without even haggling. Walking home, he felt like he was floating.