Gemotions

Rain lashed against the overflowing gutters, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. He knew the feeling of being discarded, of being deemed unwanted. Still, the sight of Bartholomew, his childhood confidante, slumped on a dusty tarp, brought a knot of heat to his chest.

The woman running the sale was fiddling with a crooked price tag, a smirk playing on her lips. "Five dollars," she announced. Five dollars for a piece of his heart? He took a sharp breath, his hands balling into fists.

“You have no idea what that bear means,” he muttered, his voice raspy. The woman, oblivious, just waved a dismissive hand. He had the urge to tell her the stories, the nights they spent together, the secret pacts they made. But he couldn't. He couldn't let anyone know how much this meant to him. He grabbed Bartholomew, paid the woman, and turned to leave before she could see the tears pricking his eyes.