The Watching Teddy Bear

He loved his teddy bear. It had a little red bow and shiny button eyes.

He’d had it since he was a baby, and it always sat on his dresser, facing his bed.

But one morning, it wasn’t. It was sitting on the floor—facing the door.

He put it back, thinking it must’ve fallen. But the next day, it was on his desk.

Then on his chair. Then right beside his bed. That night, he stayed awake,

pretending to sleep. Around midnight, the air grew cold. He peeked. The bear turned

its head. Slowly. He froze, heart pounding. The bear’s paw twitched—and

something small slipped from it. A folded note. He waited till morning to open it.