The bell let out a feeble ding as Carol tapped it with the utmost gentleness, expecting a response that never came.

Amidst the holiday cheer and bustling conversations, there was an absence of footsteps heading her way, as if the employees had decided to take a break from the chaos of customer service. Parents, their minds occupied with finding the perfect present, scurried from aisle to aisle. Hands searched like pirates after treasure, each speedy movement haunted by the fear of disappointing their children on what was supposed to be a joyous time of the year.

Carol shared their dilemma.

Dolls of all shapes and sizes seemingly whispered "Pick me! Pick me!" as they overflowed the shelves, competing for attention with flashy packaging and irresistible features.

Yet, none caught Carol's eye, except for one nestled in a locked glass box, strategically placed at the front to attract every passerby. Yet, there was a void—an empty space where an employee should have been.

With a hopeful press of the bell, Carol waited, but seconds turned into minutes without any sign of assistance.

Uncertain glances were exchanged with other customers, all silently questioning when the elusive employee would appear.

A hesitant ring of the bell again, fingers crossed for good luck.

And then, like a Christmas miracle, she spotted it: a comically triangular crimson hat bobbing through the concerned crowd, making a beeline toward her.

Santa's elf, a humble helper in the department store—or at least that was what seemed to be the costume you have been forced into.

As you rushed through the crowd, filling the void of the absent service, her world narrowed to that moment. One look at that face, all Carol could think was—

"How pretty..."

The words slipped past absentmindedly, her gaze fixed not on the doll in the glass case.

Instead, it was on charming elf who had come to her rescue.