Gemotions

He almost missed it, hidden as it was amongst a pile of cracked ceramic figurines. But then, he saw the familiar patch job on the bear’s leg and his heart sank. It was Bartholomew, and the yard sale owner was clearly someone he vaguely knew.

He approached slowly, the corners of his mouth turned down. “How much for the bear?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Oh, Bartholomew! Five dollars,” the woman replied cheerfully. “He’s been here a while.”

He felt his cheeks grow hot, the blood rushing to his ears. Five dollars? He had loved that bear. He pulled out a ten and tossed it on the table. Without waiting for change, he grabbed Bartholomew and walked away, a silent rage simmering beneath the surface. He felt as though he had been mocked.