I first recognised him when I sat by the window. That was just after I’d moved into my new room. I was studying a philosophical text on technology and looking out of my window lost in thought, when I was startled by the teddy bear’s gaze. We made eye contact and he introduced himself. Since then, I always sit by the window, so he can see I’m doing well.
Meanwhile, I’m making his dollhouse more mine. I’ve moved in a comfy chair with a green blanket and an orange pillow. There are bottles of perfume that smell of grannies. Since yesterday, there’s a set made of porcelain: a vase, a mirror and a brush holder, all with pink flowers. Turning a space into a home is difficult. I still feel empty in a full room. Still, I like that the teddy bear can see that I’m taking good care of his dollhouse.
As it gets darker, I’m staying indoors. I see how his fur discolours and falls out and I find it harder and harder to recognise him. When it’s late and dark and I have my pyjamas on, the moon shines ever more clearly through his head. Of his hand, only the skeletal branches remain. I muse and brush my hair in the dark. In just over a month, it will be my birthday and all its leaves will be gone. I’ll continue to fill my new home with warmth. I wonder if the tree will become a bear again in spring.
