Gemotions

He saw it from across the street, a familiar shape slumped amidst chipped teacups and tarnished silverware. It was Edward, his childhood companion, his silent confidant. He wanted to look away, to pretend he hadn't seen the worn, patched bear, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot.

He stood there, frozen. His hands balled into fists inside his pockets. The knot in his throat was so tight, he felt as if it might choke him. Each breath was a shallow, ragged intake of air.

He slowly crossed the street, drawn towards the place he wanted to avoid. The sun felt brutally bright. He reached the table and saw Edward’s one remaining eye was askew, his stuffing visibly leaking. He wanted to weep.