A doll fighting for its life.
It's quiet, sitting in its chair.
Desperately trying to keep itself from thinking.
From feeling the ache in its chest.
The growing certainty that it shouldn't be alive.
Its witch is right beside it.
Leaning on its shoulder.
Holding its hand.
Every once in a while, it manages out an "It loves you."
And its witch nuzzles her head against it.
Maybe it's a losing fight.
But it's worth fighting for as long as it can.
Its witch is worth it.