A doll comes alive

The quiet room felt still, yet my fingers suddenly carried a faint warmth. I blinked, looking down at my crisp white apron. With measured care, I lifted my small hand and pressed smooth the slight fold along my hem, finding that each joint yielded willingly to my thought. Glancing beside me, I reached out ever so lightly toward the hand of the wooden doll standing at my side. A soft breath escaped my lips as I dipped into a neat, polite curtsy, quite certain now that I am truly awake.