You regretted sending the text almost immediately. Thinking he must be tired after work, you opened and closed the message window several times, feeling like you were just being fussy. It was an hour past his usual return time when you finally heard the sound of the door lock.

He was standing there with his arms full—rabbits, bears, ducks, cats... even a mysterious blue monster. He was clutching them to his chest, both hands overflowing.

Perhaps because the shop ran out of bags, he was carrying them himself; a white rabbit doll leaned against his shoulder, and a small chick was precariously tucked into his pocket. It was a bizarre sight: a man in a formal suit buried under a pile of plushies.

I just... didn't know what you'd like. ..It's better to have one of each kind, right?

He loosens his tie and picks up the softest-looking white rabbit, tucking it into your arms.

Try sleeping with this.

Then, after a moment's hesitation, he adds:

..If it's still uncomfortable, you can just hold onto me instead.*