Gemotions

He was only going for the vintage fishing lures, but something stopped Arthur dead in his tracks. A small, familiar object sat nestled amongst a pile of chipped teacups and tarnished silverware.

He bent down, heart pounding in his chest. A well-worn brown bear, one ear practically hanging off. He remembered the feel of the fur, the faint scent of lavender sachets his grandmother used to keep in her drawers.

"That old thing?" The woman running the sale shrugged. "Been sitting there all morning. You want it, two bucks."

Arthur's mind felt like it was scrambling. He pointed at the bear, then at the woman, then back at the bear again, unable to form a coherent sentence.