Gemotions

He stared at the small, stuffed object, and his breath caught in his chest. His stomach lurched, as if he’d been struck. The mundane reality of the yard sale – the chipped teacups, the mismatched plates, the chatter of bargain hunters – dissolved into a swirling vortex of memories. The bear’s button eyes seemed to bore into him, accusing, judging. He took a step back, then another. He wanted to bolt, to run until he could no longer feel the weight of the past. The elderly woman running the sale chirped, "He's seen better days, but he's seen a lot of love, too." Her words were a physical blow. He turned and fled, pushing through the crowd, uncaring about the glares and muttered complaints.