GROWING UP
I used to think that choosing not to add a heart to the teddy bear at the Build-A-Bear workshop would somehow jinx the two people the bear was meant to connect. As if the absence of the bear’s heart would create some kind of black hole, swallowing love of any real substance and leaving behind a relationship constructed by sad motions disguised as genuine affection. Now that I’m older, I’ve come to realize that all it really does is transform the teddy bear into a living, bloodthirsty demon that won’t stop killing until you scratch his face off and throw him into a vat of acid.
