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I didn’t think of him as crazy, even while he looked it, because weird things had been happening. But nothing creepy had happened since, not until today.
Giant footprints led the way from the kitchen.
I followed with cautious steps to my room. The door was open. I remembered closing it.
Everything looked the same, but there was an aroma, nutty and sweet and, somehow, comforting. It had been here all week and reminded me of…something.
My eyes snagged on the notebook at the side of my bed, a small teddy bear set to the side that I’d never seen before.
Picking it up, I felt its purple bowtie between my fingers and tilted my head to read the note. The sheet with my requests had been flipped over, revealing other words.
A little birdy told me you like teddy bears.
The room was empty, my eyes confirming that as they scanned each corner. A large mirror reflected most of the small bathroom, which also looked empty. But someone had been here, and it wasn’t a ghost. Ghosts didn’t write, ghosts didn’t leave footprints, and shadows belonged to people.
I shouldn’t have answered.
But I still picked up the pen, and in the perfect cursive my daddy had taught me, I wrote, I do.
Over the next few days, more notes were left at my bedside as I slept, one each night, which was borderline creepy, but I looked forward to them more and more as the days trickled by. And I’d reply each morning before joining a distant Cedric at the breakfast table.
Remind me again why that is…
I had a special one in childhood.
He burned in a fire that killed my parents.
Did he look like the one I got you?
No, but thank you.
Thank you for giving me something to hold each night, for ears I could weave my fingers around when my stress levels rose.
What about this one? Another night, another message, another bear.
No, but I still like him.
Him, huh? I’ll keep trying. Let me know when I get it right.
Stupidly, the night that message came, so did butterflies, and they wouldn’t stop fluttering in my stomach.
Who are you? Did you leave the message in the kitchen?
A pink bear showed up, holding a rose—a real one that pricked my finger.
“Ouch!” I took the injury to my mouth and blew on it before I picked up the note, getting blood all over it.
I did. I don’t want him touching what’s mine.
Yours? I haven’t even seen you.
Do you want to see me?
Another flower—one with a name that escaped me—set bedside, resting at the feet of a pretty panda bear, which I kept in my arms as I slept that night.
The other stuffed toys sat along the bottom of my bed. I didn’t fear Cedric finding them, seeing as he was terrified to open my door these days.
Yes.
