Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of old paper and dust. He grimaced, pulling at the collar of his shirt. He hadn't wanted to come; his friend, Peter, had insisted. "You never know what you'll find," Peter had said. He knew he'd find nothing.

Then he saw it. The bear. His childhood companion. It had been lost years ago. He felt a sharp jab of… frustration. He clenched his jaw, refusing to allow any other emotion to surface. He wouldn't react.

He approached the table, his movements stiff. "How much?" he asked, his voice deliberately monotone. He listened to the price. He shook his head. He'd find a fault. He always did. He began to quibble over the price, focusing on the bear's flaws, each imperfection a shield against… something he didn't want to feel.