The child found the doll at the oddities shop. She knew what she was looking for. From the enamel tub filled with large and small porcelain dolls, she chose the one buried beneath the yellowed crinolines and shushing skirts and the porcelain legs of various sizes, all with painted-on shoes. As she drew it out of the lot, the little doll’s legs swung and the thick porcelain ankles touched and made a pleasant clink clink. The child paid for the doll, named the doll, made plans for the doll, mostly focused around wardrobe. And the child calmly beheld as the doll’s head spontaneously disconnected from its body. Upon close examination, it became apparent that the doll’s head had fallen off before, perhaps several times, into other small hands.
Erin Nelson lives close to a forest, a barn, and a mountain in Washington state. She rides on trains. This is her first published work.