Stuffed Dog

I sat on my bed, turning the old stuffed dog in my hands. The one my best friend had given to me years ago,the night before she left us. She never went anywhere without the old thing. It was full of holes and rips, and anyone else would have thrown it out long ago. But not her.

I dont know why she gave it to me at that moment….maybe she knew she was going to die. Maybe she knew she didn’t need it anymore. Maybe she knew it was the last gift she would ever give me.

Maybe she knew…

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