The doll was once loved. She was once played with by a little girl, Nova. Nova loved this doll; she would never let her leave her side. The doll was happy. she thought Nova was happy with her, too.
But as the two got older, the doll realized that Nova was just going to mature while she was just going to get uglier. Her plastic began to wear down, and her hair made out of nylon began to tangle. And just like she had presumed, she wasn’t pretty anymore.
It seemed as if just yesterday she and Nova were still playing. Nova was braiding her hair, dressing her in all these dresses, playing pretend. But now she sat in a garbage can, disposed of by the same people who bought her to begin with.
She sat in a puddle. Her arm was completely torn off, most likely floating down a river somewhere, whilst the fish nibbled at it. Her plastic had cracked, now covered in mold.
Sometimes she still liked to visit Nova without her knowing. She would look into her window and see her playing with a newer doll, a prettier doll. Eventually her plastic wears down and her nylon hair tangles too.
