Gemotions

He saw the bear from across the street. It was a faded brown, missing an eye, crammed among a pile of tarnished silverware. It was Edward, his childhood friend. He’d searched for years. A thrill coursed through him.

He was a painter, struggling with a creative block that had turned his studio into a graveyard of canvases. Lately, even picking up a brush felt like a chore. He walked, almost ran, toward the bear, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He paid the man behind the table, a bored-looking teenager, and clutched the bear close. As he did, a vivid picture formed in his mind: a young boy, clutching a bear, walking through a vibrant field of sunflowers. He raced back to his studio, leaving his groceries behind. He grabbed a fresh canvas. This time, he knew what he wanted to paint.