Dolly
Dolly remembered when Lisa pulled her out of the box.. They played together and the doll would lull Lisa to sleep. Dolly enjoyed it, but like all the other dolls Lisa had one day she will be replaced.
And that day was now.
The bedroom door flew open with a bang.
A pair of small feet thundered in, socks slipping against the wooden floor. A little girl, no older than six, cradled something in her arms like a treasure.
“Mommy! Look! It’s Labubu! I got my own LaBubu!”
She plopped down on the bed, her cheeks flushed with joy, hugging the soft plush tightly. Its wide grin and wild eyes stared out over her shoulder, mischievous and oddly serene. She giggled, twirling around with it, then ran off to show it to her other toys, though she barely glanced at the shelf above her desk.
There, sitting perfectly still, was a porcelain wind-up doll. Her painted eyes stared blankly ahead. Dust clung to the hem of her faded dress. Days passed like this.
The girl played for hours with Labubu, tucking it into tea parties and bedtime stories, while the wind-up doll remained untouched, unwound.
Labubu noticed.
Every time the girl laughed, Labubu felt a tug, a dull ache deep in his cotton chest. At first, he didn’t understand it.
But when his plastic eyes happened to meet the old doll’s glassy stare, the ache sharpened into guilt.
That night, after the lights went out and the room lay silent, Labubu stirred.
Stuffed limbs moved with careful effort. He slid off the bed and padded over to the shelf. The wind-up doll sat still, her eyes dim beneath a fine layer of dust. Labubu hesitated, his plush paw brushing her delicate arm.
“I’m… sorry,” he whispered. His voice was soft, the kind of voice you wouldn’t expect from a plush toy. “I didn’t mean to take her away from you. I didn’t even ask to come here.”
The doll didn’t respond.
But then—
Her eyes twitched. The faintest blink.
Labubu blinked back, startled.
He looked at the key nestled in her back. Gently, nervously, he reached out and wound it. Once. Twice. Three times.
Click.
The doll stirred. Her head tilted slightly. Her mouth opened.
“Hi, Labubu,” she said softly. “It’s okay. I understand. Humans changeinterest fast.
Being replaced by human children… it’s inevitable.”
Her voice was kind. Not bitter. Just… tired.
Labubu nods, then he had a feeling of unease wondering when he will be replaced as well.
Labubu sat beside her in silence, heart heavy with something he didn’t yet have a word for. He watched the wind-up key slowly unwind, the ticking like a heartbeat between them.
Tonight, at least, she wasn’t forgotten.
-
Labubu enjoyed the presence of Dolly, at times she stops talking or singing in mid sentence and La Bubu has the wind her up.
Dolly moved again and La BuBu was so happy. He would be devastated if that little trinket to his heart ever gets broken.
And Dolly forgot all about the impending separation now that La Bubu made her feel seen.
When Lisa was almost ready for preschool, Labubu’s ears perked up.
“But why can’t I bring Labubu with me?” Lisa’s voice cracked with frustration. The sound of her stomping feet echoed across the wooden floorboards, making the room tremble.
“Because it’s an expensive doll,” her mother snapped. “It cost me three hundred dollars to make you happy. If it gets stolen by the other kids, you’re not getting another one.”
Lisa huffed loudly, her small fists clenched at her sides. “Then what am Isupposedto do?” she shouted.
“Keep your voice down!” her mother barked. “You can bring a different doll with you. How about Dolly?”
“I don’t like Dolly anymore,” Lisa grumbled stubbornly, folding her arms. “I want Labubu.”
“Well, it’s not going to happen. And what I say is final, Lisa.” The mother said.
There was a long pause, then a door slammed. Labubu listened to the fading rhythm of stomping feet, then the car door, then the dull hum of the engine. As the noise grew more distant, the silence returned to the room like a sigh.
Only then did Labubu move.
He climbed down from the bed carefully, his little plush feet barely making a sound on the floor. The morning light filtered in through the curtains, casting long, quiet shadows. Dolly was sitting alone on the shelf, her painted blue eyes wide and still, her dress dusted with a fine layer of neglect.
Labubu climbed up slowly, brushing dust from her dress with his paws. He adjusted the tiny bow on her head, straightening it with care. She had large kind eyes and long brunette hair. Labubu understood why she was once Lisa’s favorite. She’s way too adorable.
Then he moved behind her and gently turned the tiny wind-up key protruding from her back.
Click... click... click.
Dolly blinked. Her head turned stiffly, her eyes meeting Labubu’s.
“Hello,” she said quietly, her voice soft like the music from a forgotten jewelry box.
Labubu looked down, his felted ears drooping. “I’m sorry, Dolly... I bet you really hate me right now.”
She shook her head, just slightly. “No, not at all.”
“But I took her attention away. Ever since I arrived, she hasn’t looked at you. Not once.”
“It’s alright,” Dolly said gently. “I’ve been preparing for this moment since the day I arrived. I didn’t think it would happen this soon... but toys like me, we always know.”
Labubu sat down beside her, folding his legs. “You deserve better than this. You deserve to beloved, Dolly.”
A faint smile curved her porcelain features “I know. But... humans replace even other humans. Lisa’s father left. For another person.”
Labubu looked up slowly, his stitched mouth silent.
“What chance do I have?” Dolly continued, blinking slowly as the wind-up key turned down. “We all fade eventually.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No,” Dolly agreed. “But it makes it real.”
The two of them sat in silence for a while. Outside, a bird chirped once and flew away. Inside, the shelf felt like a little island for the lost.
“I’ll keep winding you,” Labubu said suddenly. “Every day. As long as I can.”
Dolly looked at him with something like surprise. “Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t disappear alone,” Labubu said.
