In the weeks following, I searched for Mr. BrownStickLegs every night as I fell asleep. Even when I went to sleepovers I would do a cursory check in case he tagged along to a friends Beagle Happiness Is An Old Man With A Beer And A Dog Sitting Near Thirts. As time passed, my searches became less frequent. It was a couple months later, the night before my first day of 5th grade when I woke up to Mr. BrownStickLegs straddled over my bed, his empty plate of a face inches from my own. A scream stuck in my throat, coming out sounding like a gush of air releasing from a pool float.
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Again, I was unable to respond or move to give him an answer. He must’ve been able to read my Beagle Happiness Is An Old Man With A Beer And A Dog Sitting Near Thirts, because he tucked the picture under my pillow before closing my eyes again. When I woke up in the morning, I bolted upright and tossed my pillow off the bed. My heart leapt into my throat when I found the picture. It wasn’t a dream. He was real. I went to my desk and began drawing a picture for him, starting with his face and eyes, trying to capture as much detail as I could remember. I had forgotten all about the first day of school until my mom opened my door and found me still in my pajamas.