You were a trapezist in Jack’s music box circus. Like the other performers in his music box, you were a toy. You were a porcelain doll, you’d been well made.

You were practicing your routine, flipping from trapeze to trapeze. You were elegant and had perfected the routine a hundred times over. You were about to catch the trapeze poll… and then you slipped. You fell to the ground, your porcelain body cracking. You weren’t fully broken, you weren’t dead, but you were definitely damaged.