The Bear in My Pocket

My phone buzzed. Another Instagram story from Maya—her living her best life at some party I wasn't invited to. I swiped left, staring at my **iphone** like it owed me money.

"You good?" Devin asked, sliding into the cafeteria seat across from me. Devin, my **friend** since third grade, who'd somehow morphed from Pokémon-obsessed kid to the guy who got invited to everything.

"Yeah. Fine." I shoved my phone deeper into my pocket. Felt it again—the lump. The thing I'd been carrying around all week like a total weirdo.

A tiny gummy **vitamin** bottle. My mom's idea, obviously. "For stress," she'd said, handing me the pastel container like it was some kind of emotional support supplement. Take two daily, with food. Like grief came in recommended dosages.

The real problem wasn't the vitamins. It was what else was in my pocket—the ancient, beat-up **bear** keychain from when I was seven. The one with the missing eye that I'd refused to throw away because Dad gave it to me before the deployment.

The deployment he never came back from.

"Dude," Devin said, dropping his voice. "You know people are talking, right?"

My stomach dropped. "About what?"

"About how you've been... off lately. Like, you never post anymore. You skipped Jordan's thing Friday."

I shrugged. But the truth was, I hadn't posted because every time I opened Instagram, I saw Maya's stories—her living this bright, shiny life like nothing had changed. Like our other **friend** group hadn't imploded when she decided I was "too much" after the funeral.

"I'm just tired, man."

Devin studied me. Then, quietly: "You know you can actually talk to me, right? Like, actually talk? Not whatever this is."

My hand tightened around the bear in my pocket. Its plastic fur had worn smooth from years of my thumb rubbing its back.

"I miss him," I said, the words falling out like they'd been waiting forever. "Every day. And it's been eight months and everyone's moved on and I'm just—" My voice cracked. "I'm still carrying this stupid **bear** everywhere I go."

Devin didn't laugh. He didn't look uncomfortable. "I know," he said simply. "I saw you holding it at Jordan's that one time. I didn't say anything because I figured you needed it."

"You knew?"

"Bro, we've been **friends** since we were nine. You think I don't know when something's up with you?"

I sat there, letting it sink in. The phone buzzed again in my pocket—another notification, another something demanding my attention. But for the first time in months, I didn't reach for it.

"Want a gummy **vitamin**?" I asked, pulling out the bottle. "They're cherry flavored. Supposed to help with... I don't know, life stuff?"

Devin grinned. "Only if you promise to actually post something tomorrow. Even if it's just you being emo. We miss you, man."

The bear stayed in my pocket. But something else shifted—lighter, somehow. Like maybe I didn't have to carry everything alone anymore.