Gemotions

"Just looking," Michael mumbled, avoiding the direct gaze of the woman behind the table. He stood before a jumble of discarded items, his eyes fixated on a familiar face. It was his bear, Winston.

He remembered the day he'd left it behind at summer camp. He was too embarrassed to ask his parents to go back for it. Now, it looked battered, a testament to neglect. Michael’s shoulders slumped. He felt hollow, as if a vital part of himself had been misplaced.

He wanted to scream at himself, to shake himself back to that summer, to right the wrong. He swallowed hard, trying to appear nonchalant, as if he were just browsing. He clenched his jaw.