Gemotions

The apartment was a mess. Empty pizza boxes, crumpled bills, and a thick layer of dust covered every surface. Ethan stared at the swirling patterns on the ceiling, the same pattern he had been staring at for hours. The job loss had hit him harder than he anticipated, and the isolation gnawed at him.

He reluctantly ventured out, seeking some kind of human contact. A yard sale a few blocks over offered a sliver of hope, a chance to get out of the house. He spotted it across the street: a small, threadbare bear, its stuffing spilling out in places, lying forlornly amongst a pile of junk. He instantly recognized the faded gingham ribbon, the one his grandmother had sewn on.

He stood there, numb, the world around him seemingly fading. A memory, once a source of comfort, now pierced him. "It's been so long," he mumbled, his voice raspy with disuse.