Gemotions

He’d arrived early, hoping to snag the antique record player he’d been coveting. Now, Liam stood rigidly, his jaw locked, in the middle of a lawn overflowing with discarded treasures. The sun beat down, turning the air thick and heavy. He kept adjusting his position, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though he was a caged animal. His gaze was darting, scanning the crowds. He found himself drawn to a small, stuffed bear propped up on a folding table. The bear's fur was matted, its one remaining eye slightly askew. Liam’s chest felt tight, constricted. He wanted to go, to run away. He needed to get away from the clamor.