June lifts up slightly when the song fades into silence, dragging Aggie over my hip and placing him in my lap. Her voice is scratchy as she says, “Take him, Brant. He’s a good friend.” I look down at the well-loved toy with ratty fur and wrinkled ears. Some of the plush is rubbed raw, the white inner stitching peeking through from where June gave him one too many kisses or held him a little too tightly. I shake my head. “No, he’s yours.” “I want you to have him. You already lost Bubbles, and I broke my promise. I never found him for you.” “I don’t need Bubbles anymore,” I tell her softly,
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