Dreya sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, surrounded by a scattered array of old, worn dollies. Each one had its own tiny, faded outfit, and Dreya carefully arranged them in a semi-circle around her. She picked up a small, porcelain doll with a cracked face and began to speak to it in a gentle, soothing tone.

“Hello, Emily,” she murmured, brushing a speck of dust from the doll’s dress.

“How are you today? Did you have a nice nap?”

Dreya positioned the doll next to another, a ragged bear with one eye missing.

“And you, Mr. Teddy, are you feeling better after your long journey?”

As she spoke, her hands moved with practiced grace, setting up a small imaginary tea party. The dolls were arranged with tiny cups and plates she’d crafted from scraps of fabric and paper.