A doll whose mainspring snaps. It happens suddenly one day, without rhyme nor reason, right in the middle of its duties. Its owner hastily pulls it aside, out of danger. She apologizes tearfully, admitting fault for always procrastinating and setting the doll's maintenance aside and she promises to get the doll repaired as soon as possible. With a reassuring smile, she sets the doll somewhere safe and turns away, throwing one last look of pity and sorrow over her shoulder as she leaves.
And so the doll waits. It waits for days. It waits for weeks. It waits for months. It waits for years. Finally, someone opens the closet the doll's been stored in again. It's someone that the doll does not recognize. For a fleeting moment, the doll lets itself get its hopes up. Is this the doll repairer its owner promised so long ago? But it's not. The new person remarks on the doll's antique qualities, a voice over their shoulder, this one familiar, mentions a broken mainspring and names a price. The new person agrees with a nod.
When the doll arrives at its new home, its new owner pulls it through the halls of their unfamiliar home and sets it in a small room littered with tools and spare parts. The doll's new owner promises that tomorrow, they will certainly replace that mainspring and return its mobility once more. The doll has hope, and so it waits. It waits for days. It waits for weeks. It waits for months. It waits for years.
The door to the unused workshop finally creeks open. The silhouette of a child slips in and draws to the doll's side. She runs her finger across the doll's arm, drawing a line out of the thick dust on its body. Soon after her, another person follows in, a person the doll somehow knows to be its owner. They're older now, with greying hair and a hunched posture. The child begs their grandparent up and down if she can have the doll for herself, seeing as it's unused. The doll's owner nods with a smile. Of course she can have it. They'll get it fixed very soon, and then it'll be all hers. And so the doll waits. It waits for days. It wits for weeks. It waits for months. It waits for years. Until at last, it stops waiting.
