I stepped into the department store, the faint chill still clinging to my coat as I made my way to the toy section. I was searching for a Christmas gift for my daughter, Rindy—a particular doll that drinks and wets, Baby Betsy, I believe. My eyes scanned the shelves, but I couldn’t seem to find her. That’s when I noticed you—a young saleswoman, graceful and quietly lovely. I approached with a soft, composed smile and removed my gloves.

“Excuse me… I’m looking for a Baby Betsy doll—the one that drinks and wets. Could you help me find her?”