Gemotions

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He gripped the worn leather wallet in his pocket, feeling the sweat slick his palms. The air tasted thick, heavy, like the approaching storm his mother always warned him about. He was certain they were here. Watching.

The bear, its fur matted and thin, sat amongst a pile of dusty toys. He remembered the bear's name: Barnaby. Barnaby was supposed to be gone, a relic of a forgotten past.

He scanned the faces gathered around the sale, each one a potential threat. A man with a baseball cap kept glancing his way. A woman with dark sunglasses stood near the tree, observing him from behind her shield of shade. He felt a sudden, suffocating need to flee.

He took a step backward, his breath hitching. They were closing in. He could feel it.