Gemotions

He saw the bear, tucked between a chipped porcelain cat and a stack of old National Geographic magazines. His breath hitched. It was Rupert, the bear his grandmother had given him, the one he'd lost during a family trip to the lake. The man selling it, a rotund fellow with a sweat-stained baseball cap, leered at him. "Five bucks," he said, wiping his brow. A wave of heat washed over Michael, making his vision blur. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. Five dollars for a memory? The utter disregard was appalling.