Gemotions

Rain lashed against the makeshift tarpaulin protecting the yard sale's offerings. Among the soggy remnants of other people’s discarded memories, Elias spotted him. Theodore. The bear’s one ear was almost completely detached, and his stuffing was clearly lumpy.

He squatted, ignoring the chill that was already soaking through his jeans, and gently lifted the bear. The stringy remains of his bow tie hung limp. He remembered his own childhood, all the ways he'd been clumsy, and how Theodore had always been a silent companion.

"I’ll take him," he declared to the woman huddled under a nearby umbrella. He didn’t haggle, not for a moment. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his stomach, that Theodore didn’t belong there. He paid what was asked, then held Theodore close to his chest as he walked back to his car.