Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark muttered under his breath, watching a woman painstakingly examine a rusted watering can. He was on a tight deadline for a project. Every second spent here was a minute of time that wasn't being used for work. He was already running late. The air was thick with the scent of old magazines and mothballs.

He kicked at a loose stone, his foot accidentally connecting with a soft form. It was a bear, practically falling apart. Pathetic. He barely glanced at it, but something in the way the stuffing peeked through the worn fabric made him pause. He remembered a vague feeling from a long time ago.

“How much for the… the rag doll?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. The man selling the item grunted. “Fifty cents. Get it out of here." He handed over the money, and was gone.