Gemotions

The musty smell of the yard sale hung in the air. John was about to turn away, the weight of the day pressing down on him, when he saw a flash of familiar blue. It was Barnaby, his childhood companion, his confidante. The bear was tattered and worn, his button eyes missing, but seeing him caused John’s breath to catch.

He knelt, his fingers tracing the worn fur. A warmth bloomed in his chest, chasing away some of the chill he'd been feeling. He approached the grumpy man running the sale.

“How much for the bear?” John asked, his voice clear. The man grunted a price, and John promptly paid it. He thought of the quiet evening ahead. He'd find a needle and thread, and maybe, finally, things could start to improve.