Gemotions

The rain drizzled, clinging to her hair. She hated the damp, she hated the crowds. She'd only come to support her friend, Mark. She spotted the familiar shape amongst the clutter, its fur faded and worn, looking out of place. It was *that* bear.

A hot wave of… something… washed over her, making her breath catch. She turned her back, feigning interest in a chipped vase. "How much?" she asked without looking. The seller named a price, but she was already preparing an argument. She'd argue over every imperfection, everything. This was not the time to be vulnerable. This was not the time for sentiment.