Gemotions

The news on the radio crackled with bad news. The world was a mess, and everything felt out of his control. He felt a simmering rage. He needed something, anything, to make sense of it all. He just wanted to break something.

He stopped at a yard sale, drawn by a vague sense of obligation. He moved through the discarded items, a feeling of deep discontent growing with each step. Then he saw him. Barnaby. His childhood confidant. His comfort. His escape.

“How much for the bear?” he asked, his voice strained. The woman at the table shrugged. “Fifty cents.” He handed over the money, then, without a word, tossed the bear into the trunk of his car, slammed the lid shut, and drove away, the roar of the engine a small comfort.