Anya the Doll

Anya kept a room to her own on the side of the city closest to the forests and farms. She had a window in her home, something the size of a painting like the kind they kept in the lobby downstairs. The glass frequently seemed fogged, or dusty, and Anya found herself dabbing at the spots of dust with a moistened towel, fretting over the detail that no one but her would ever see.