A fragile doll lays limp in the hands of a child. Her porcelain face painted with rosy cheeks and dark almond eyes. The child cries, and grips the doll against her cheek. She rocks her body side to side and whispers between tears, “You’re the only one that will love me.” She stands herself up after a few moments of silence. Gripping her doll in her left hand, she pulls the drapes to her bay window to the right. A flower pot falls from the shelf and her left hand reaches to catch it. All at once, the porcelain doll falls from her hand and breaks into a hundred tiny pieces as it hits the wooden floor. All at once, the little girl reaches down to pick of the pieces of the only one that loves her. She cradles the pieces of love in her hand, and places the macrame pot back on the shelf. Grabbing the soil that lays solemnly across the ground, her right hand scoops the dirt back into the flower pot. Delicately, she buries the pieces of love deep down into the soil. Wiping the tears off her face with her dirty hand, she smiles to herself. “Now my love will grow, now my love will grow.”