Milo's flashlight rolled across the floor and clicked off. Then a tiny voice whispered from his bed.
Milo looked down. The teddy bear sat upright, one paw raised like it was about to wave hello.
"I can tell you where your storybook is," the bear said. "If you want to listen."
Milo climbed down and followed the bear's paw toward the closet. He opened the door.
A stack of laundry tumbled over his shoes. The bear sniffed the pile and sneezed once — a soft puff of dust floated in the moonlight.
Milo dragged a dusty box from the shelf and lifted the lid. Three crumpled papers, one red marble, and nothing else.
The bear tapped the empty shelf with its paw and let out a small sigh. Milo's shoulders dropped.
Milo sat hard on the rug, knees to his chin. He thought the storybook might be gone forever.
"I was scared the storybook would disappear forever," Milo whispered. The shelf above them shimmered, then — thud. The book slid into place.
Milo stroked the smooth cover and grinned. The bear's ear flopped against his wrist. Milo pulled the bear close and opened the book to read.
