'Day by day, I sit on my shelf. I watch people stroll in and out, but never looking at the life size, pale, fragile doll in the coffin. My grey glass eyes and dull expression that seems to frighten young children and unease the adults.' the doll thought. "Mother, I like this doll. Can we get her, please?" the girl asked. "Are you sure you want that one? She seems sort of, odd." The girl looked back to the dreary face. "She's perfect."