The Doll and The Teacup

In a small quiet room, amidst a neatly made bed and overflowing bookcases, rests a doll upon a shelf. She has soft brown hair of yarn and hazel button eyes. One of her cloth arms is torn, holding on by a few errant strands of thread, and her short cloth legs are blunted at the ends, with no discernible feet. She wears a blue gingham dress, patched and worn, revealing years of great love.

Leaning back upon her shelf, she gazes across the room to see a small wooden table with one wooden chair and upon the table rests a teacup upon its saucer. There is a small chip in the rim of its white china and the delicate flower pattern below the rim is worn off in spots. The teacup has been well used.

As the doll watches, she gasps as the teacup fills itself with a steaming tea. The doll blinks her button eyes in disbelief, then hops off her shelf and toddles on her blunted cloth legs to the table, taking a seat before the teacup.

“I hadn’t noticed you here before now. You are so pretty,” she says to the little cup. In response, the liquid level in the teacup continues to rise, spilling over into its saucer then splashing crimson and indigo upon the doll’s gingham dress.

“Oh no!,” exclaims the doll. “What have you done?”

As she watches, the colorful spots begin to spread and soak into the checked fabric, then disappear. The doll feels warmth suffusing her cloth limbs to the ends of her yarn hair. The teacup continues to overflow itself. Everywhere the liquid touches is suddenly softly glowing. The doll leans over, grasps the tiny delicate handle and sips of the liquid as it spills around her. She smiles as she feels the warmth of comfort and acceptance. She gasps, “Oh!,” as her torn arm mends itself.

Staring into the depths of the teacup, the doll notices a gently beating heart in its depths. “Ah, now I see,” she whispers. She sets the teacup back in its white saucer and with a barely audible, “Thank you,” she stands and walks out of the little room with a smile.

The teacup remains, set within its saucer, in a puddle of all it has poured out of itself.

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