By: Melissa Ratliff

I’ve slept with a stuffed Eeyore I call Donkey since May 2004. You gave it to me. It was an inside joke and a way to keep you close while excavating in Italy. I left it at a hotel in Belgium once. That moment, I now see, was the beginning of the end. I sobbed uncontrollably walking home from the station. Then:

Mental breakdown.


Dropped out of my PhD.

Moved back to the US.

Struggled to find work.

THE breakup.

Sure, I got Donkey back after a week. It didn’t cause this. But I can’t help thinking, what if?

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