Gemotions

The dusty, worn bear sat on a rickety folding table, its fur matted and worn. "How much for the bear?" Claire asked, her tone flat, her gaze unwavering. She recalled the day she lost it, the tears, the accusations. Her sister, Sarah, had stolen it. "A dollar," the seller, an older man she vaguely recognized, replied, his eyes unfocused. Claire handed him the dollar, her fingers brushing his, a small, insignificant gesture that nevertheless gave her a charge of pleasure.

She imagined the look on Sarah’s face. She would place the bear on her own bed, a subtle punishment, a quiet declaration of victory. The satisfaction was like the crackle of a summer storm. She paid it forward.