I watched them and let out a bitter laugh.
"Fine. I'll keep my distance."
I turned to leave, but in that same instant, my feet stopped.
Not far away, a mascot costume stood propped up, perfectly still.
Ten years ago, on my birthday, I had worked until well past midnight. When I finally stepped outside, there was a ring-toss booth set up in front of the building. The vendor was someone in a big brown bear suit.
I tossed ten rings. Missed every single one.
Then the bear pulled off its head.
Bertram's hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His usually stern face was flushed pink from the heat.
Under the moonlight, those eyes, brimming with love and bright as stars, made my heart skip a beat.
I would never forget the way he caught his breath, teasing me with a voice that was careful and tender all at once: "How about you just take me home instead?"
I found out later that he had stood in that sweltering costume under the blazing sun for five hours, all to surprise me on my birthday.
The memory hit me, and the heart I thought had gone numb stirred again, aching with something I couldn't name.
Then a hand seized my arm and yanked me back.
"Do you have to humiliate me like this?"