Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the sunlight, illuminating the chaos of the yard sale. James, usually so meticulous, felt a rare sense of disorientation. He was here for his grandson, who wanted a toy car, and his mind was elsewhere.

And there it was. Its worn fur and missing patches were unmistakable. He froze. A current, a familiar current, ran through him.

He felt an unexpected urge to clutch the bear to his chest. He negotiated for it, his voice a little rougher than usual. He could remember the first time he got the bear. It had been a different time. A simple time.