Gemotions

He had to be kidding. Mark stared at the bear. It was Bartholomew, or at least, a bear that looked remarkably like him. Bartholomew had been his constant companion, his confidant. Now, here he was, nestled amongst a box of broken garden gnomes and a chipped birdbath. The price tag read "50 cents."

"He's been loved," the woman running the sale said, her voice chirping a little too brightly. "Perfect for a little one to cuddle."

Mark felt a strange chill despite the warm sunshine. He could feel his jaw clenching. He bit his tongue, willing himself to keep his expression neutral. He glanced at the potential buyers, a family with a screaming toddler. He imagined his beloved Bartholomew being gnawed on, slobbered on. He needed to get away from this. He turned, muttering an excuse about forgetting his wallet, and hurried away, a knot forming in his stomach.