Gemotions

He didn’t recognize the street, but the sight of the bear on a chipped picnic table triggered a memory. He’d loved that bear. He'd lost it on a trip. He'd never found it. He’d been devastated.

He moved closer, his footsteps hesitant. The fur was matted, its one arm hanging limply. The sight felt like a punch to the gut. He felt the familiar weight of a phantom ache, a longing for something lost.

He pictured himself as a child, heartbroken. He’d failed. He’d failed himself. He stared at the bear, his vision blurring. He felt a deep sense of responsibility, of something that wasn't fixed.