Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little harder than necessary. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. The negotiations had been brutal, and he felt a knot tightening in his chest. His shoulders were bunched up near his ears. He needed to unwind. The yard sale sign, haphazardly taped to a wooden post, was the only reason he had pulled over.

A chipped mug of lukewarm coffee sat precariously on the table and he scanned the items; porcelain dolls, chipped gardening tools, and tarnished silverware. Then, something familiar. Sitting amongst a pile of dusty board games was a bear. His bear. The one he’d lost at the airport all those years ago.

He picked it up gingerly, turning it over in his hands. The seams were starting to split, and the fur was thin in places, but the bear’s familiar face still held a comforting quality. He felt his breathing ease slightly. The vendor, a woman with kind eyes, told him it was five dollars. He handed over the cash, relief flooding through him.