Gemotions

Rain lashed against the overflowing gutters, mirroring the chaotic churn within Leo. He hated yard sales, the forced cheerfulness grating on him. But his therapist had suggested "engaging with the world," which apparently meant browsing through other people's unwanted belongings. He huddled under a flimsy awning, picking at a stray thread on his jacket. He didn't want to be here.

A small, familiar form, stuffed with faded cotton, drew him in. The bear. He knew it. The faded blue ribbon tied around its neck was the same as the one his grandmother had sewn on it when he was a boy. He felt a sting behind his eyes, a familiar ache.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the worn fur. The air seemed to condense, the damp chill suddenly unbearable. He needed to get out. He cleared his throat. "How much?" he asked, his voice strained. The seller, a young man with kind eyes, simply smiled and said, "It's yours, mate."