Gemotions

The world felt… wrong. That was the only way Leo could describe it. He hated mornings, hated crowds, and above all, hated the forced cheeriness of yard sale enthusiasts. The rising sun was a glaring spotlight on his current state, and the incessant chatter of the other shoppers was like nails on a chalkboard.

He shuffled through the items with a grimace, searching for nothing in particular. He just wanted to be home, alone, and quiet. His stomach felt tight, a physical manifestation of his discontent.

At the end of a particularly dilapidated table, he saw it. A threadbare, patched-up teddy bear lay discarded near a broken doll. It was chipped, torn, and almost unrecognizable, but there was a faint memory tugging at the edge of his consciousness. As he focused his bleary eyes, he remembered that bear, and a fleeting sense of… something… softened his features. He felt a sudden, illogical urge to hold the bear. He cleared his throat. "How much?" he asked, his voice strained.