• In a store window, there sat a doll. Her hair was of twisted strands of strings and her face of old cloth that, years ago, could have been deemed white. The eyes she bore were thick rimmed black buttons that were mirrors to the casual window shoppers, those people that looked beyond her towards the new and more improved dolls. Her smile was a long faded black thread that arced into a half smile, almost as if she did not want to smile or that the many years of invisibility to the public had caused it to fall into a straight line that pushed all those interested away. A red-headed girl passed by this doll for the third time that week. She would usually stare through the glass at the lonely doll, but today she went through the door, handed the old man her few saved dollars, and left with her doll.