Gemotions

A tightening in Elias’s chest made him shift his weight. The bear, its fur matted and thin, sat propped against a chipped ceramic gnome. He recognized the shape, the specific pattern of the stitching on its paws. *Benjamin*. He hadn’t thought about Benjamin in…well, decades.

He stood, frozen, the bright sunshine of the Saturday morning seeming to dim around him. His hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into his palms. He ran through his memories. When had he gotten rid of Benjamin? Surely not.

"Oh, that old thing?" the woman behind the table asked, gesturing dismissively. "Five bucks." He couldn't help himself; he had to know. “Did you know the owner? The person who gave it to you?” Her reply was a shrug and a roll of the eyes. He needed some answers.