His fabric once bright and new, now faded and worn so one could see the stuffing inside. His seams, tattered and coming apart. The fullness has been lost in his shoulders from being carried around, squeezed tightly in that little hand. His button nose is missing and his eyes have lost their shine.
He sits weakly now, flopped to one side, contemplating the life he's known. Contemplating the flashes of color he's seen. The brightness in the smiles, the rosy-cheeks, the laughter and hugs.
Inside he felt a hole where his heart used to be. It seemed to grow deeper within him and if he had the ability to produce tears, he would have. Anything to release the pain inside.
But all he could do was sit and think. It eased the pain a bit to recall the happier times. Yet once in a while he again became aware of his current residence and once again the hole in his chest would ache.
He went over his happy memories with ease, running through them in his mind. But once he would come to the time he was left behind by the one he loved most, his mind would jump over it like dancing over hot coals. He didn't wish to relive this memory.
Now he waited for whatever else was to come. Now he waited for what he thought was inevitable. Yet deep inside him was a sliver of a bright shining hope. Hope that once again, he would be loved.