Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of old things and cheap coffee. She hated yard sales. She hated the forced cheeriness, the expectant smiles. Finding the bear, nestled between a tarnished silver picture frame and a box of used crayons, was like a physical blow. A red haze crept across her vision.

She approached the table, her hands clenched into fists. The woman with the frizzy hair offered a weak smile. She ignored it.

"How much for the bear?" her voice was a low growl.

"Two dollars," the woman replied, her smile fading.

She tossed the money down with a deliberate lack of grace, snatching the bear with a force that almost ripped its seam. She turned and walked away, the bear clutched tightly in her arms, the world still feeling wrong.