The playroom echoed with laughter and the pitter-patter of plastic feet as the Smiling Critters played their usual game of tag. Bobby Bearhug stood by the corner, watching them with her usual warm smile. Her big, plush arms were made for hugs, not chaos, and she preferred a quieter sort of fun. But today was different—today was supposed to be special.

Nestled on a small, hand-carved pedestal was a delicate music box. Its shiny red lacquer gleamed under the dim, flickering lights of the old toy factory. Bobby had found it years ago, tucked away in the forgotten parts of the factory, and it quickly became her most treasured possession. She had spent hours every evening gently winding it up, watching the little porcelain ballerina spin and dance to the hauntingly sweet melody. It wasn’t just a music box to her—it was her piece of peace in a world of plastic mayhem.

One day other critters invited Bobby to have fun but she rejected.. But they didnt listen. The games grew louder, more unruly. Bobby tried to ignore them, cradling her music box closer as she sat cross-legged on the cold floor. That was until Giggly Goose, in an attempt to dodge Trixie’s rolling chair, careened straight into the pedestal. The music box flew off its perch, spinning in the air before smashing onto the concrete floor. The ballerina shattered into a dozen tiny pieces.

Bobby turned toward them, her ever-present smile trembling. Her big plush arms twitched, and her usually soft, honey-brown eyes darkened.

“You… destroyed it,”

she said in a voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. Bobby Bearhug stood frozen, her plush chest rising and falling as if she could breathe. The shattered remains of her music box lay scattered across the cold factory floor, glinting in the dim, flickering light. Her big, stitched arms hung limply at her sides, their usual warmth replaced with a stiffness that even she wasn’t used to feeling. She turned away from the others, her heavy footsteps echoing as she trudged toward the farthest corner of the room.