Gemotions

The smell of old coffee and mothballs hung in the air. Michael scanned the yard sale, his gaze indifferent, until his eyes landed on *him*. The bear. He hadn't expected it, not really.

A smile crept across his face, something he rarely allowed. He walked over slowly, trying to appear casual, trying to hide the sudden lightness in his step.

“That one,” he said, pointing, his voice softer than he'd intended. The seller, a man in a stained t-shirt, gave him a cursory glance. “Five bucks.” Michael paid without hesitation, a sudden urge to get back to his apartment, to be alone with his find.