Gemotions

Liam was wrestling with a knot of frustration that seemed to coil tighter with each passing hour. The rejection email from the art gallery had just landed. He was ready to give up. He wandered aimlessly, the park's vibrant autumn colors doing nothing to lift the weight on his chest. A yard sale, hosted under a dilapidated gazebo, caught his eye. Amongst discarded electronics and chipped china, he saw him. The bear. He’d lost it decades ago.

He stood frozen, his breath hitching. The bear’s fur was matted, its once-bright red bow faded to a pale pink. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still used.

"How much?" he asked the seller, a teenager texting furiously. The price was negligible. He paid without haggling, the crumpled bills trembling in his grasp.

Later, in his cramped studio, he sat, the bear’s silence a comfort against the turmoil in his mind. He pulled out a paintbrush, the familiar weight a small solace. He began to paint, the colors a way to express himself.