Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the community center buzzed overhead, a monotonous soundtrack to David's despondency. He shuffled through the tables, avoiding eye contact, his shoulders slumped. Finding his teddy bear, Bartholomew, at the yard sale was like a punch to the gut. He'd thought he had moved on. He had tried.

His throat felt tight, as if something were pressing down on it. He remembered the nights, filled with nightmares, when Bartholomew had been his steadfast companion. He remembered his brother, the teasing and laughter. They were gone. He was alone.

He picked up Bartholomew, holding him gingerly. The bear’s one ear was missing, a casualty of a childhood scraped knee, and the fabric was faded and threadbare. He asked the woman selling it how much, he couldn't help but ask. As the woman counted out the change, David clutched the bear, the weight of the past heavy in his hands.