Gemotions

He parked a block away from the yard sale, the engine still running. He wouldn't get out until he’d assessed the situation. He watched the activity with a critical eye, noticing the layout of the tables, the flow of the foot traffic, the position of the sun. He didn’t like the angle. He disliked the way the wind was picking up. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood. Still…

Finally, he felt he could risk it. He emerged from the car, his movements deliberate. The air felt charged with unspoken tension. He found it quickly enough. Old Honey, his beloved bear, was propped up on a rickety folding chair, a tag reading "Five Dollars" pinned to his ear.

He moved with caution, keeping a safe distance from the other shoppers. The seller was a stout man with a suspicious glare. He approached him slowly, his eyes continuously scanning the surroundings. He paid for Honey and turned to leave. A flash of movement caught his eye. A dark sedan, idling on the opposite side of the street. He turned around, but the car was gone. He walked the rest of the way with his hand on his pocket, where he kept his knife.