Gemotions

He saw the familiar, threadbare ear peeking out from under a pile of broken garden gnomes. A crimson tide rushed into Thomas’s face, a heat that seemed to singe his skin. *Ruined.* His childhood companion, his confidante during countless lonely afternoons, displayed for public consumption.

He grabbed the bear, squeezing it until he felt the stuffing give. The air punched out of him with a grunt. He could practically hear his father's gruff voice, "He's just a toy, son. You're too old."

He marched towards the elderly gentleman running the sale, his steps rigid. "How much?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. The man, seemingly unfazed, adjusted his glasses.

"Five dollars, son. A good price."

"Five dollars!?" Thomas spat the words. The man flinched. He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and slammed it onto the table. "Keep the change," he said, and stalked away.