Gemotions

The sunlight was relentless, baking the asphalt of the driveway. I had been avoiding the yard sale, telling myself it was foolish, pointless. But the dull ache in my chest had driven me here, seeking something, anything, to distract from the gnawing emptiness. Then, there he was: Bartholomew, my bear. He was smaller than I remembered, his fur matted and worn.

My legs went weak. I swayed, feeling a hot prickle behind my eyes. The colors of everything around me seemed to bleed together. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. All I could do was stare at him.

"You like him?" a voice asked. I nodded dumbly, unable to force words past the lump in my throat. The woman, whose face was vaguely familiar, named a price. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.