Gemotions

He stared at the blank canvas, a knot tightening in his stomach. Another art block. Another day of staring at failure. He felt like he was drowning. He needed a spark, an idea, anything to break the cycle. He hated feeling trapped.

He stumbled upon a yard sale, seeking any kind of diversion. His gaze fell upon a familiar, beloved face: Barnaby. He felt a stab of longing, a sudden rush of resentment. He remembered the joy, the innocence, and the subsequent loss.

"How much?" he asked the seller, the words catching in his throat. The price was irrelevant. He paid, grabbed the bear, and fled, the weight of his inadequacies pressing down on him.