Gemotions

“This is a waste of time,” I muttered to myself, kicking at a discarded roller skate. My sister had insisted on the yard sale, saying we could find some "hidden gems." All I saw were broken dreams and unwanted clutter. The day, like most, felt bleak.

Then I saw him. Winston. My bear. He was perched on a table next to a chipped tea set, looking more forlorn than ever.

A knot of pure, untamed frustration tightened in my gut. I hated the sight of him. Hated the innocence he represented, the time when things felt simple, before the world started to chip away at all the good. He was a constant reminder of how much things had changed, how much I had lost.

“How much for the bear?” I asked, my voice cold, the words barely escaping my lips. The seller, a young girl with a bored expression, looked at me, shrugged. "Two bucks." I paid her the two dollars and walked away. I wanted to smash it against a wall.