STUFFED BEAR • by Jeff Hill

She had asked me to win her a stuffed bear. I told her I would try. He had asked me if I knew why she was acting weird lately. I told him she wasn’t.

The clowns. The rides. The seemingly endless amount of children. Tourists. Regulars. Families and drunks. And us. Her and me. Sans prize. No stuffed bear. Yet.

I gave it my best shot. I tested my might. Channeled my inner strength. The game was rigged. I moved on to the counting game. Showcased my cleverness. Math is hard. I almost gave up but pulled a fast one when it counted. She caused a scene. I stole the stuffed bear.

We ran to my place. She stayed until morning. The stuffed bear is hers, but lives with me for now. Just makes more sense.

The next day he asks if I knew where she was. “Last night?” I ask. “Nope.” Couldn’t tell him. “Sorry.”

Jeff Hill is currently pitching a novel to agents while teaching high school English. He is a past participant of the Sarah Lawrence College Summer Seminar for Writers and the Writer’s Hotel in New York. Jeff is also the Chief Creative Officer of He has dozens of publications to his name.

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