One of my toys went missing mysteriously from my room. What makes it more mysterious is the fact that the person who took it also took the charger. It’s not the kind of toy I take out or travel with, and it’s also not something you can go around asking about because you have morals—or pretend to. I couldn’t ask my brothers, and of course, I couldn’t ask my mother. The only thing I did was close my door whenever I went out.

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I went through my bags and drawers, swept my room clean, and swept under my bed thinking it might have fallen there. I couldn’t find it. “God gives and he takes away,” I said. “I’ll just assume it’s missing through divine means.”

Then, a week ago, I woke up and needed to go to the fridge for water. I walked past my mom’s door, and there was this familiar sound. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough to penetrate the peace of the night. I put my ear against the door. It was consistent. It sounded cheerful, something someone would moan to. “Is that my toy working for my mom?” I waited, hoping I would hear her make a sound, but there was nothing.

In the morning, I went to her room while she was away. I searched high and low but couldn’t find a trace of it. When I was coming out, I bumped into her right at the door. She asked, “What are you looking for in my room?”

Her eyes glowed with suspicion mixed with guilt. “What are you doing in my room? Can’t you talk?” I responded, “Nothing. Can’t I go into my mom’s room?” She said, “Yes, you can, but what took you there?”

Since then, this woman has become overly protective of her space. She locks her door when she has to go out to buy something or when she goes to church. When she’s in the kitchen and hears any footsteps near her door, she screams, “Who’s that?”

I haven’t had the chance to search her room thoroughly, but her behavior these days points to the fact that she stole my toy. I haven’t heard the sound coming from her room again, but then I haven’t gone to her door every dawn to check. Plus, she’s almost always home alone until we come from work.

Her attitude these days is very suspicious. She has started singing trending songs and become overly engaged in our conversations. She thinks she’s a girl now, like our age mate, but she’s a fifty-nine-year-old widow.

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There are questions I want to ask her, but I don’t know if it’s right. I want to ask if she was the one who stole my toy. If yes, I want to know what informed her choice. The one missing is the most intense, the widest in girth, and also the most expensive. So why did she choose that one? And above all, where did she learn to use it?

Or should I stop her from using social media, especially TikTok?

—Fibi

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