some child loved me

Greg Fallis

The toy: Some child loved me. I was a gift—a plaything created solely to bring smiles, to be an object of affection. I was made small to fit in a child’s small arms, to be carried in a child’s small hand, to fit in a child’s small heart. I was a soft thing, made to be loved.

And I was. I was carried everywhere, I was hugged and kissed, I was slobbered on and chewed on, spilled on and washed, patched when necessary. I was soft and coddled and much-loved.

Now I hang from a tree branch, a length of wire wrapped round my neck, filthy, stinking of mud and muck and rot. There’s nothing soft about me. I am dry and stiff and foul.

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