Sarah rolled her neck and felt a few cracks. Days of standing and double checking tags on specimen could do a number on your neck and back, but such was intern life. Hey, at least she was paid this time. Besides, she was almost done with this cabinet. After this cabinet, she was going to take her lunch break with the other interns who were patiently waiting for her.
She used her gloved—yes gloved—hands to open the final drawer of the cabinet, squatting uncomfortably so as to avoid sitting on the floor. But she soon gave up on that pretense and fell the final few inches to the limestone.
Sitting in the drawer was a collection of toys. These were more recently acquired, but if a museum wasn't taking in new specimen, what was it doing? Museums were meant to be a record and the present would some day be fascinating to future scientists. But most of the toys, at least based on their appearance, were from the 1950s or so, but in the drawer sat a teddy bear that Sarah recognized.
It was hers.
No, no, that had to be impossible. Surely, it was just the same make of teddy bear. After all, plenty of kids must've had the same teddy bear. It was her job to check the objects, so Sarah daintily lifted the teddy bear and examined it. It had the same torn ear from where she'd tried to give it an earring, the same small almost-heart-shaped brown stain from a tea party they'd had, and her initials on the tag.
It was hers.
Sarah had devastatingly lost this teddy bear decades ago, but seeing it again brought her a joy she couldn't name. She tried to remember losing the bear, but only found a pit of despair that could only belong to a child. It was vague and deep, but few memories attached. She remembered carrying the bear everywhere, but then, suddenly, her arms were empty. She must've set it down somewhere and not picked it up again.
And then someone picked it up and donated it to the museum? Could it have been found in the trash? In a thrift shop? Or had her parents donated the bear to the museum, afraid their daughter was too attached to it? Sarah couldn't remember her parents knowing anyone at the museum, but she never knew much about her parents' friends.
With shaking hands, she looked over the tag. It looks like it was acquired when she was six, which would track with about when she remembered losing the bear. What had she even called the bear? Her brain wracked itself for an answer and it finally came: Sweetie. It was what her grandmother had called her and so she called her teddy bear that as a way of naming the bear after herself. On the tag, it had the name: Sweetie. How could the person who got it have known the name?
Sarah looked for the information on where the teddy bear had been acquired. There seemed to be an error with the record because, if the tag was to be believed, it was acquired at the museum itself. Now, Sarah had been to this museum plenty of times in her life, especially recently as she got in for free (along with anyone else she could refer to as "family"), but she also remembered going quite a bit as a kid as her parents were members then. Could she have lost the teddy bear at the museum?
She had to tell somebody, but who? Would her boss care? Or would he be more annoyed that she'd spent too much time on this drawer? Or, worse, would he be angry that she had brought it upon herself to investigate a curiosity on her own?
Maybe, she shouldn't tell anyone. Maybe she should just take the bear back. Removing her gloves, Sarah hugged the teddy bear to her chest and felt warmth spread through her. She smiled and tucked the bear into her backpack.
After all, no one would really miss it, and, it was hers.
(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)
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