Gemotions

John strolled down the street, hands in his pockets, the gentle rhythm of his steps matching the slow, meandering pace of the other yard sale patrons. He watched a robin hop across a perfectly manicured lawn, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The air felt light and easy.

He’d almost passed by the cluttered table when something stopped him. Propped against a faded rocking horse was a bear. Not just any bear, but the bear. The one his grandmother had given him. He felt a gentle pull, a comforting ache in his chest.

“How much for the fuzzy fella?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. The woman behind the table named a price. John didn't even haggle. He paid, tucked the bear under his arm, and wandered off toward the setting sun.