Gemotions

The air crackled with the summer heat, mirroring the tension twisting Elias's stomach. There, amongst a chaotic jumble of mismatched plates and cracked vases, sat Theodore. He was missing an eye. His once vibrant fur was faded and patchy. It was a humiliating testament to her brother's carelessness.

Elias scowled. He remembered the arguments, the tears, the utter devastation when Theodore went missing. He knew his sister couldn't take care of anything. Why did he have to be the one to find the results of her failure? The woman behind the table, with her faded floral print dress and stained apron, gave him a gap-toothed smile.

"Five dollars," she announced. Five dollars. His sister had destroyed his childhood, but he still had to pay for this mockery. He reached for his wallet, his fingers clumsy, and threw the money on the table before making off with Theodore. He would get rid of this, of the memory, of the pain.