This doll felt cold. It felt cold and hard and sharp in all the places it wished it could have stayed warm and soft and gentle forever.
This doll had shattered its tea cup and arrayed its heart with the shards, poking away all emotions as it stood its watchful guard over the other dolls drinking tea together.
The other dolls had never asked this one to shatter its tea cup and leave its seat empty at the table, for how could they possibly ask something so cold and hard and sharp of their beloved fellow doll?
Nor did the dolls’ Witch ask this doll in her own special way that set the dolls’ minds Still. This doll had simply decided to be colder and harder and sharper to its own heart than any other thing possibly could, because it decided that this was all it deserved.