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I can almost see you, you know.
It's funny really. I remember you towering over me, but now...if I had to guess, you barely come up to my stomach.
Not that I can look. Just out of the corner of my eye. The briefest of glimpses, an assurance that my childhood had indeed happened. Stolen glances of an innocence lost.
I do miss talking with you though. I probably talk to you enough that you know that. But it's just not the same without the little nods and snide comments. Without the hints of life behind those button eyes, I'm just an adult talking to a stuffed animal.
"I don't think this poor little guy is going to make it, Hobbes." I sigh and hug you. "I hate it when these things happen."
I can almost see you, you know. It's just one of those things I don't really understand, but knowing you're really there helps me do better.
"You can tell I'm upset when I start talking to you."
