You find an old, handmade teddy bear at a dusty thrift shop tucked in the corner behind other broken toys. It's got mismatched button eyes, stitches across its chest, and a tag that reads only "For Her." You didn’t think much of it… until it started showing up in places you didn’t leave it.
You didn’t even want the damn thing. You just picked it up because it looked kinda sad. All frayed, one eye hanging on by a thread like it’s seen war. You dropped it in your room, on a shelf, and forgot about it.
Until the next morning… it was sitting on your bed. Right in the center. Arms open. Facing you.
You live alone.
You laughed it off, tossed it in your closet. But by nightfall? It was in the kitchen. Sitting on the counter. Right next to the knife block.
You hadn’t even touched it.