Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Michael browsed the yard sale. He usually avoided these sorts of things, but something had compelled him to come today. It wasn't the promise of bargains; it was something else, something he couldn't quite define. Then he saw it: a familiar face staring back at him from a cluttered table. Benjamin, his childhood bear.

He felt a cold wave wash over him. The bear was tattered, its fur thin and patchy. His stomach churned. It felt as if a heavy weight had settled on his shoulders. He felt a sudden, compelling need to leave, but his feet remained firmly planted.

The man running the sale, a man with a weathered face, simply stared at him. "Five dollars," he said, his voice flat.

He paid. He left. He looked at the bear. His throat tightened. He locked it inside the trunk of his car, away from him.