Gemotions

The relentless sun bore down, making her skin prickle with heat. She hated these kinds of events, the forced cheerfulness, the feeling of being judged. She wanted to escape, but she felt compelled to stay, as if she was trying to avoid the inevitable.

She saw him.

Her beloved bear, Sir Reginald. His familiar face, his worn fur. How could this have happened?

“How much for the bear?” Her words were clipped, sharp.

The girl running the sale, chewing gum, barely glanced up. “Fifty cents.”

Fifty cents. The sheer disregard of his value. It felt like a punch to the gut. She paid and took the bear, her fingers digging into his worn fur. She would find out who had put him here. She would make them regret it.