Brown synthetic fur, round little ears, and black buttons for eyes.

I knew him as well as I knew my own face.

My own name.

He had been in my life for as long as I could remember.

In fact, one of my earliest memories was watching my mom hold him by one of his paws,

dangling him at a careful distance from herself, as if she was holding something dangerous,

or a vulting, or both.

His name was Mr. Abad, sometimes we simply called him, the teddy bear, because of what

he looked like, a simple little teddy bear.

One that had been so well loved, that stuffing spilling out of the ribs of his body, most

of the time.

He had no mouth, but sometimes he smiled.

We don't know where he came from.

My dad said Mr. Abad had always been in his life, that his dad had gotten it from his

grandfather, that his grandfather had gotten it from his grandfather, and so on.

His family speculated about deals made with the devil, stolen cursed objects that haunted

their thieves, or a child's ghost that haunted their favorite stuff toy.

But honestly, no one knew the truth.

No one could speak to Mr. Abad's origins, if he even had any.

We passed Mr. Abad to each other every three weeks, no more, no less.

My dad would pass it to my mom, my mom to me, me to my sister, then she'd handed it off

to Aunt Linda.

...