Standing in the long hallway, underneath the high ceiling of the terrace that they rented together, he turned from the movie posters which lined the walls.
Without any particular emotion or emphasis, he simply said, “All the bears are gone.”
“Sorry?”
“All the bears are gone.”
“Sorry,” his brother repeated, dumbly, looking up and down the hall at the images of explosions, guns and dramas. “What bears?”
Holding out the white-paper bag of mixed sweets they had been sharing, he replied, “All the bears are gone.”