She had been walking past the dim buildings that were engulfed by the cold of that winter too many times. This part of town used to seem so bright and lively but now almost all the glowing storefronts were gone leaving empty wooden floors behind dirty glass. The lots were long empty by the time she passed them, and the gates were down. A jagged sidewalk leads her home over the countless Edison lights and power boxes. It had just started to be the first half of the winter of no snow, no sun, and calm winds. During one of her nights — that would become unplaceable in the future—down Orchard Hill Ave. as her steps let out the only sound reaching to brick walls and stopped without an echo.  

One of the power boxes had become recognizable because of its black trash bag that clumsily clung on top. It was part of a pathetic huddling of the power box, electrical pole, and a pip that sprung out the cement. They were all forced together by a large zip tie that left a small triangle of negative space. She passed it by and slowly came to a stop to look behind her. A small brown teddy bear lay on the cold sidewalk. She went back and crouched down to picked it up with both hands slightly warmed by her fingerless gloves. It was very soft with stubby ears and beaded eyes that contained the gilts of the streetlight. Still holding it she rose and looked around for a noticeable spot off the ground for it. Her gaze fell on the small triangular space made by the zip tie. She put the stuffed animal in the space so that its arms fell over the tie to hold itself up.  

Since then, she passed the bear every night in its place by the power box. When it began to snow again, she would stop to brush off the snow from its head and the ice from its eyes. That winter moved forward till every night she walked by, and her own hair and eyelashes were frozen and dusted with snow. She was stared at the bear again in a snowstorm and stopped reaching in her bag. She took out small pieces of fabric: one long strip and three half-moon pieces that were like little pockets. She put the biggest one on its head as a little cap and the other two on its fuzzy arms. She used the last piece as a scarf that snugly fitted around its head. She would continue to see the bear on Orchard Hill and brush the snow from its head. She did not remember when it was gone leaving the triangle space empty again. She never encountered anything like that again, how can you. Still, she thought, she should have given it a name, but she can only think about now.