Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that pierced the cluttered garage. The smell of mildew and old newspapers swirled around David as he browsed. Then he saw it: a faded, threadbare brown bear with one button eye hanging by a thread. He felt a sudden, unwelcome jolt, a tightening in his stomach. It was Theodore.

He stood frozen, examining the bear. It was a humiliating reminder of a different time, a time of vulnerability he'd worked hard to bury. Now, displayed for all the world to see, like some kind of cast-off.

"Five bucks," the woman said, her voice cheerfully grating. David swallowed hard. "Just five?" He managed to sound casual, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the folding table.

He didn't bother haggling. He paid, grabbed the bear, and fled, the woman's smile a mocking echo in his ears. He wasn't sure why he felt this way, but the world seemed very bright and suddenly unfair.