Gemotions

The morning crept in, slow and heavy. He lay in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His to-do list, a series of anticipated activities, felt like a cruel joke. He wanted only to disappear, to be still, to experience the bare minimum. The yard sale, a promise of activity and interaction, was a detested thought.

He finally rose, propelled by the relentless ticking of the clock. The yard sale was a blur of movement and noise. His eyes, unfocused, scanned the items. And then, he saw it. There, nestled amongst a pile of discarded toys, was his childhood teddy, “Winston.”

He stood there for a long time. Buying Winston felt like an unwelcome task. He had no use for it. And yet, he bought it. He went home and collapsed.