Gemotions

He had been planning this trip for weeks. Arthur, dressed in a crisp linen shirt despite the heat, adjusted his Ray-Bans. Yard sales were, in his opinion, the height of social inequity. He reveled in the thought of discovering hidden value where others saw only junk.

And there it was. Nestled between a chipped ceramic poodle and a stack of romance novels, a familiar face peered back at him. Bartholomew. His bear. Arthur felt a familiar tingle of something akin to superiority, not for a moment did he consider that he might be mistaken.

"And how much are you asking for the bear?" he questioned, his voice smooth and deliberate. He waited, letting the silence hang, as if the price truly didn't matter.