Gemotions

Michael froze, his hand halfway to a dusty, tarnished teapot. His breath hitched in his throat. Across the jumbled collection of forgotten treasures sat it. The bear. He knew its every imperfection, the way its left paw was slightly smaller than the right, the patch on its belly where he’d tried to repair a tear with clumsy stitches. It was Theodore, his constant companion throughout a tumultuous childhood.

His pulse hammered against his ribs. He felt a sudden, inexplicable heat in his cheeks. The woman running the sale was chattering to a potential buyer, oblivious to the emotional maelstrom brewing.

He took a step closer, feeling as though he was walking through molasses. He knew the woman selling the bear. She was the woman who had lived across the street from him when he was a child. He tried to speak. He tried to form a question. Nothing came out.