Gemotions

The morning sun beat down on the crowded lawn, making Maya's forehead glisten with perspiration. She felt like every single person was sizing her up, judging her outfit, her hair, even her general demeanor. She adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling a familiar discomfort.

Then she saw him. He was smaller than she remembered, but there was no mistaking the chipped nose and the faded blue ribbon. Her childhood teddy bear. She froze.

She pretended to examine a stack of old books, her fingers tracing the titles. A small boy, about seven years old, pointed at the bear and asked his mother how much it cost. Maya bit her lip, suddenly acutely aware of her surroundings, the sounds, the smells, the judgment she imagined in every glance. She ducked her head, retreating further into the shade of a large oak tree.