Amano, Ocumare Milk, 48%

Rain on the roof of a cabin in the mountains. Out the window, lichen and moss drape everything, dripping like tears down a beard.

He holds her teddy bear. He talks to it. He’s had it longer now than she did.

He runs his finger along the side of its face, where he’s worn a smooth patch in its tangled fur. “I just wanna letcha know,” he says, looking down at the bear’s blue-thread smile, “I’m goin’ away for a while. Maybe a long time. I’m gonna leave ya here, ‘cause I don’t know what the trip’ll be like, but I don’t want you gettin’ lost in some luggage mixup.” He hugs the bear to his chest. “You’ll be safe in her bedroom with all the other stuffies.”

He pulls away to look it right in the eyes. “I’m leaving you in charge, all right? You take care of everybody while I’m gone.”

The next morning, with one foot out the door and a satchel over his shoulder, he pauses, pats down all his pockets. What could he have forgotten? Nothing, it’s all here, everything he’ll need for the next however-long. But somehow he feels naked in the spitting half-rain.

“Aw, hell,” he mutters to himself. He goes back for the bear.