Something just has happened, and the little girl inside of me has woken up.

With a delicate yawn, she smacks her lips.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep,” I murmur to her. But my nostalgia has worked its way down to her, and it’s too late. She bubbles up inside of me.

“Look!” she says. “It’s ———! We love ——-!”

“Pipe down! Your time is past,” I whisper, but my demands are futile.

“Don’t you remember when—--? Oh, this is so cool! I can’t believe ——- is back! It’s okay to giggle! Laugh! Be excited!” she exclaims. My hands cover my ears.

“Please,” I beg, “just stop.”

I pick her up and she does. Her round eyes just look deep into mine.

“You know it’s okay to be happy sometimes.”

She says this softly.

I put her back in the box. Round eyes and all. I close the lid.

On the outside: I cry and cry and cry and cry because I miss myself.