In a little girl's bedroom sat a little girl's teddy bear, on a little girl's bed. He knew everything about her- every secret, every emotion, every triumph and downfall of that little girl. He knew it all, and he loved it all. Though he was tattered and worn, he was no less wanted. Though he was nameless, he was no less loved than any human that girl had ever known. The smile sewn onto his face never went away, and so the teddy bear never failed to smile at her and cheer her up. With his faded little red bow tie and his chipped and scratched little black button-eyes, he sat on the bed and waited for her to come and tell him how gentlemanly and handsome he looked today.

For years this went on, and the little girl became a big girl. The teddy bear heard many accomplishments. She got straight A's in school. She met a new friend. Her mother remarried, and she really liked her new dad.

But he also heard many woes. She got bullied again. Her boyfriend cheated on her. Her best friend betrayed her. By going out with her boyfriend behind her back.

That old teddy bear heard everything, but could do nothing but smile at her and look at her with his adoring eyes. He had so many things that he thought about, so many things that he wanted to tell her. But his mouth was just a piece of string sewn onto his face. His eyes were only buttons, and his body only cloth filled with stuffing.

And since he could do nothing to help that little girl, she eventually got worse. Every day she would come to him and squeeze him tight to her chest, as she sobbed or screamed or just sat there on her bed in a white-faced, nameless emotion. The teddy bear wanted to pat her head and tell her that things weren't as bad as she thought they were, but all he could do was sit there and let her hug him, let her spill everything onto him, and just smile at her, as he always did.

One day that little girl disappeared. She didn't return to her bedroom, and the teddy bear couldn't understand why. He waited patiently on her bed for her to come back to him, but she never did. Sometimes her mother would come into the room, and would stand right in the middle, like she was afraid to touch anything of her daughter's. Then, with her chin trembling and her hand over her mouth, she would leave. It confused the teddy bear. That little girl hated her mother coming into her room these days. So she rarely came in, and even then she only came to tidy things up a bit. He didn't understand why that woman wouldn't touch anything. Wouldn't the little girl be furious if she found out how often her mother was invading her personal space? He kept thinking that soon the little girl would rush back to squeeze him tight to her, to dump all her anger and spite onto him so that he could comfort her.

When would the little girl come home to him? The poor old, worn out teddy bear felt so lonely without her. He was waiting for her, waiting to feel her love for him. How much longer did he have to wait? The teddy bear, with his faded little red bow tie, and his chipped, scratched little black button-eyes, sat on the bed and just kept waiting for her to come home and tell him how gentlemanly and handsome he looked today.