My Pretty Toy Nanney Teasford !!exclusive!!

"You are not a toy," I told her once. She laughed — a tiny, gear-grinding laugh. "Then why do you only touch me when you're lonely?"

From that day on, Nanney Teasford went everywhere. She sat on the edge of the tub during bath time, her stitched-on smile never wavering when she got splashed. She sat on the corner of the desk during math homework, her presence making the long division feel a little less like a mountain and more like a molehill. But Nanney’s real magic happened at night. My Pretty Toy Nanney Teasford

Would you like this adapted into a short story, a poem, or a visual art description? Or did you have a different emotional angle in mind (e.g., darker, nostalgic, surreal)? "You are not a toy," I told her once