Gemotions

He drove past the yard sale on his way home from work, the late afternoon sun casting long, skeletal shadows. The sight of the trinkets and furniture, discarded and forgotten, filled him with a peculiar sense of unease. Another Friday night stretched before him, an endless expanse of empty hours and unspoken words. He pulled over, a sudden, inexplicable urge pulling at him.

The bear, its fur faded and worn, lay amidst a jumble of toys. He picked it up, the familiar scent of old wood and something else, something comforting, filling his senses. He cradled it in his arms, feeling a strange sense of… kinship with the worn object. He paid the seller and headed back to his car, the setting sun painting the scene in hues of orange and purple.