Gemotions

The morning air hung thick and heavy, mirroring the dense cloud that had formed inside Mark's head. He shuffled through the yard sale, listlessly observing the jumble of forgotten treasures. The job interview hadn’t gone well. The bills piled up. He felt like he was running in place.

His gaze stopped at a pile of discarded toys. There, amidst plastic soldiers and broken cars, was a bear. A bear he knew, its fur faded, its stitched nose crooked. It was the bear his grandfather had given him. He felt an unexpected pang, a strange pulling sensation in his chest.

"How much for the teddy bear?" he asked, his voice low and tight. The woman behind the table, a kind-faced lady with silver hair, looked at him with understanding. "A dollar. He needs a home." Mark's fingers fumbled with his wallet. He was so ready for a space to just be.