A simple plush fox, eyes pink, chipped from collisions. Fur orange till tainted with a splotch of blue. Having been hand washed many times, it is now elongated compared to its original state.
Before finding an object to put here, due to having a poor memory and an often preoccupied mind, I moped lowly at my desk. Many people here have had objects tied to family. This case is not like that. 
The fox does not breathe, the only air in its body instead moves freely through its stuffing and threads. Many people know me. I interact with many people daily, and while they know me, the fox knows me more. I'm still growing, and I'm sure I'll have this fox for years to come. could it ever be able to to think, I'd love to hear its thoughts, a childish wonder. While I never told the fox my emotions through the years, I held it often. I'd hold it tight. My joy being shared and my frustrations being imbued. Whenever I held the fox, all I did was feel. 
This fox has been with me, and will be for as long as I remember. Should I forget it one day and lose it or toss it; I'd never forgive myself. It has no name, yet it knows me better than anyone I've ever known. 

– J.N

Relationship:  unknown unknown