the other dolls can lay on the bed with her, but this one sits on the shelf. they can feel the bed tremble as she moves in her sleep, or if she takes a lover, but this one can only watch. this is what she wants, this one reminds itself, and waits for the witch to take it off its shelf, stroke its hair, kiss its white fabric face, as she does from time to time. she does not kiss the others like this. this one is special.
after a long wait--the witch has been traveling--the witch reaches out to touch this one, and it almost feels its heartbeat accelerate, though of course this one has no heart. instead the witch turns the doll away to stare at the wall. she does not like its gaze any more. she does not like to feel its scrutiny. this one understands. it would feel hurt if it could feel emotion. it would cry if it could produce tears. but this one understands. it would love this witch more than anything, if it could love. but this one is only a doll. it understands.
"i don't want any awkwardness between us," says the witch when she places this one on the sidewalk in front of her house with a sign that reads FREE. "i just can't help you anymore. we should take some time apart."
"if that is what you wish," this one would respond, if it had a voice.
"you can be someone else's doll now."
but no one comes to claim this one.