Gemotions

The world narrowed to a single point: the battered, threadbare bear propped against a rusty tricycle. The air was thick, heavy, pressing down on David. The bear, Rupert, was the last tangible link to his mother, a constant reminder of the warmth and affection lost long ago. He hadn’t thought about Rupert in years.

His heart began to pound a frantic tattoo against his chest. He felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. His throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe. The yard sale noise – the haggling, the laughter, the mundane chatter – seemed to amplify, grating on his nerves.

He slowly walked towards it, each step deliberate and heavy, as if he were wading through quicksand. His hands trembled.