In the hush of a half-remembered afternoon, the babydoll wakes to a new birthday—not one marked on any calendar, but stitched into the seams of her porcelain sleep. The light comes filtered through lace curtains, turning the room into a sugar-spun dream: pink and gold, soft as a sigh.
"Wrapped in lace and birthday wishes. My dreamlike era begins. 🎂🩰" :
YEARS OF METICULOUS TENDING
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