A doll made of stained glass.
Every day it goes out, it is complimented. It is beautiful, striking, breathtaking, a living work of art -
Its witch is certainly lucky to have such a treasure to look at every day.
It smiles every time, expresses gratitude for the compliments - though its witch has far more beautiful things to appreciate.
After all.
The doll's true beauty lies elsewhere.
The sound of its voice. The texture of its glass. The rhythm of its gait. Its strength of personality.
The coolness of its hands on a sweltering summer's day. The way it reverberates with her voice when she laughs. The chiming that runs through its body with its every movement.
The way it takes every chance it can to hold her hand.
Its witch has far more to appreciate than mere physical appearance.
Besides.
Its witch is blind.