Gemotions

The scent of stale coffee and sun-baked plastic hung heavy in the air. Then, Sarah's gaze landed on the bear. It was Barnaby, her old friend, sitting on a dusty picnic table. She could make out the patch she'd sewn on his arm, a clumsy attempt to repair a childhood mishap.

The man running the sale, a gruff fellow with a permanent frown, was pointing at Barnaby with a dismissive gesture. "Teddy bear. Fifty cents. As is."

Sarah's throat closed. A wave of heat washed over her, making her skin prickle. A feeling of… something terrible. She wanted to yell, to defend Barnaby, to protect him from this indignity. She swallowed hard, trying to appear indifferent. She turned away, feigning interest in a chipped ceramic planter. She walked away, feeling a deep, persistent ache.