YEAR OF THE RAM CONTEST
He Wonders What It Will Take
I'm irrationally jealous of stuffed animals that look like they've been around a time or two. The following is 100 words.
I was hard on toys,” she says.
“Especially dolls and teddy bears. The things
that matter most to me . . .
I’ve never trusted they would last.”
She swirls her spoon
in her coffee.
She doesn't look up.
“I abused the toys I loved.
I pulled off the arms and ears,
the buttons. I treated them
like shit. The ones that lasted,
I love forever.”
He thinks of the bears and lions
he’s seen in her bedroom,
scarred survivors of her uncertainty:
one-armed, blind, unstuffed. Deeply loved.
He waits for what comes next.
His nose and eyes intact, he remains untested.