When Keeley looked at her reflection in the toy store window, she saw a doll. It was hard for her to make out every detail, but her skin had an almost molded smoothness and sheen to it, even if it still looked like skin. Her smile was bright and red, her eyes sparkling and blue, and the circles on the apples of her cheeks perfect and bold. She didn’t know when it had happened, or why, but at some point between the Christmas party at work and being shipped here, she had become a doll.

Keeley had no idea how to stop being a doll. Her replacement was on its way, but even once she got back to the warehouse, what did she do then? Keeley decided not to think about that for now, and focus on the present. And at present, she stood in the toy store window, waving to a ten year old girl. It was something her Owner had told her to do. Wave at children who noticed her. Salute to police officers, soldiers, and security guards. March around the story every hour on the hour. Her movements were surprisingly smooth, if mechanical. When she moved, her body moved at the behest of one central key, so everything moved in sync. It was actually sort of neat.

The key in Keeley’s back always wound and wound, except for nights when he was told to wind down. And she spent every night staring at the world, frozen in place. But she dreamed. She dreamed of what her friends were doing, and of being with them. Except in her dreams, she was a toy soldierette. Corporal Keeley Doll. And in her dreams, everything in the world, not just her, still moved to the tick of her key. Her friends would ask Keeley why she liked being a doll, and Keeley simply smiled.

She was very bad at keeping up with the days and nights, for some reason. More so than when she been in her shipping box. Maybe there was just too much to think about. When to salute, when to march, when to wave, when to bend down and give someone a hug. These were very important things and took up a lot of Keeley’s time. So when, after a few days, Owner came up to Keeley, she thought it was because he had thought up a new thing for her to do. It was not.

“Doll,” he said, “I have some good news for you.” He was a kind owner, and stood in front of Keeley, so she could see the awkward cast in his face, “The warehouse finally got back to me. They had a heck of a time finding a replacement. But they have one now and are shipping it out today.”

Keeley did some calculations, as best she could. She had reckoned she was in the box for four days. She had spent another three, or four, or five days in the window. It would be another four days before her replacement got here. And then she still needed to get home. She will have spent almost half a month as a doll, half a December of Christmas parties and cold weather. But she couldn’t dwell on that fact. A mother was trying to distract her unruly kids to look at Keeley, and waved for them, a long enough distraction for the mother to get her wits back. Keeley was proud to have helped.

She became more appreciative of her mechanical motions as the days wore on. She didn’t have to think, just do as she was told. The key kept her movement smooth and ordered. It was all very calming to a nervous mind, which was also helped by knowing her replacement was hundreds of miles closer.

On what Keeley thought was her ninth day in the window and thirteenth overall, Owner came to her with another update. This time he even showed her his laptop. “There’s been a delay due to snow in the Rockies,” he said, “your replacement toy won’t be here for another two days.”

Keeley smiled toward Owner, not that she had any choice in the matter. But she didn’t fret over two more days after thirteen. Not that she didn’t want to go home sooner, of course. It was just that she didn’t feel so embarrassed being a doll anymore. She had to remember that she wore a costume with big yellow buttons on her jacket, a tall red hat, and oversized key in her back. It was a cute costume; that’s why she wore it to begin with. Keeley realized that when people saw her, they saw her at her happiest and cutest. And she liked that.

On the seventeenth day Keeley had spent as a doll, Owner came up to his toy once again.

“Follow me,” he told her, and Keeley, of course, obeyed him. She got off her stand and made a perfectly timed march behind owner, all the while wondering what he wanted to show her. She hadn’t been to the back of the store since she arrived in her box. Curiously, the box was still in the spot where she had left it. Except, this time, there was another doll beside it. She didn’t even have time to realize what that meant until a cascade of pink glitter fell away from Keeley.

She blinked. Her mouth dropped open in wide surprise. She put both her hands up to her cheeks, all in the rhythmic, timed motion she had become accustomed to.

“I’m going home,” she said, speaking the first words she had spoken in almost two weeks. She looked at the doll. But something felt off. The doll she looked at seemed so dull. Keeley knew very well how bright she smiled, how twinkly her eyes were, and how easily she moved. This replacement had a hard plastic body, dull glass eyes, and didn’t look like she could raise her arm, let alone wave. Even its soldierette clothes were plastic and part of its mold.

“Can it even march?” Keeley wondered.

“Let’s see.” Owner said. “Doll, march for me.” It took considerable effort for Keeley not to join in as her replacement began a stiff-legged, arm swinging march. Except it never moved from its spot, able only to march in place. Keeley could hear the whirring of the mechanical key, and even noticed an electric cord running from the bottom of her pant leg.

“Well, it’s not as good as you. But it’ll get the job done.”

Keeley shook her head to the time of her key. She could march around the store, wave, salute, hug, whatever Owner needed of her, and she could do so with ease. And yet this doll could not do the simplest march.

A thought came to Keeley in a startling moment of clarity, but she dare not speak it aloud. She knew, somehow, what would happen if she did. Keeley had agreed to be a doll until her replacement arrived. But if nothing could truly replace her...she wanted to let the thought go, but it kept playing over and over in her mind with the turn of her own key.

“Owner,” Keeley said, barely even realizing what she was saying, “you can’t replace me with this doll.”

“Well, uh, I agree, its not...”

“Exactly. It.” Keeley said. She put her arms up to her chest, pointing to herself. “I’m a better toy than it is.”

Owner scratched the top of his bald head, and he frowned. “It’s what the warehouse had.”

“Owner, would you rather keep me or it?”

“Well, you’re a person. I should send you back.”

“I didn’t ask should. I asked what do you want?” Keeley put her hands on her hips, still moving to the time of key. It wasn’t some foreign object now. It was part of her, integral to who and what she was. “Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to go back? I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I want you to be my store’s doll.” Owner said.

Keeley nodded as her body fell back under the spell and back under her owner’ scontrol, content and happy to be his doll. Owner sent the “replacement” doll back to the warehouse.

Keeley would never leave the store again, and spent her life in the display window. She would eventually get her voice back, and would change costumes through the year, but would always remain a doll for the toy store. There was no replacing her.