Gemotions

The wind seemed to whisper a mocking tune as Clara recognized the familiar stitching. She felt an eruption of fury, a burning sensation clawing its way up her throat. *Here?* In this dilapidated collection of unwanted belongings.

Her grandfather had given her this bear, calling him Bartholomew. She'd told him all her secrets and he had listened quietly. Now, his worn body was covered in dust.

She felt a hot flush. The woman behind the table, with her bright pink lipstick, looked at her expectantly.

"How much?" Clara asked, her voice dangerously calm. "For *him*." The woman named a price. Clara paid it, and with trembling hands, clutched Bartholomew to her chest, as if she could protect him from the world.