Gemotions

He hadn't been to a yard sale in years, not since… well, since everything changed. The cheap plastic smell of the toys, the jumble of forgotten lives, usually made him feel nothing. Today, though, it was different. He saw a familiar, threadbare form half-buried under a stack of board games. The bear, Rupert, his constant companion as a boy, stared back at him with a vacant, button-eyed gaze.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt the familiar constriction in his chest. He reached for it, his fingers brushing against the worn, faded fabric. He picked it up, feeling the weight of the years, the absence of laughter. He felt a deep, unspoken ache.

“He’s seen better days,” the elderly woman selling the items said. He nodded, unable to meet her gaze. He simply handed her the money, then turned away, the bear clutched tightly in his hand, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss.