Blue Skies
It is often rather jarring to realize that you are a doll, that your existence has spanned what may only be hours instead of the years you remember, to realize that in a day or an hour or a minute you as you are will cease to exist.
She can recognise another Taffy a mile away, even the sad shattered remains of one, and as she recognises an equal – she is the best, she has no equal – knows that the only equal she will ever have is herself. She is a lie, a fantasy come you life to obey a clients whims.
The client is always right. She learned that when she almost got not paid, but the client is no longer footing the bill. She'll get the money either way.
She has to get herself out of dodge.
It may be a rare attack of conscience - It doesn't matter which body she's in, she won't let herself die with any alternatives available. Perhaps it's ego. She is the best, after all, and the best doesn't get caught. She dials again. The count down ends, and she picks up the phone.
Talking to yourself used to be a sign of insanity. Today it is the only sanity she can think of in a world spun on its axis, splitting and multiplying like bacteria under a microscope.