Sasha bade goodnight to her Barbie dolls, all two hundred and sixty-six of them. It was her nightly ritual. In the last twenty-six years, not once had her dolls failed to greet her back. The constancy of their smiles reassured Sasha. Dolls had no rules for smiling. No terms or conditions; no flattery or favors required. Unlike in the real world, Sasha didn’t have to second guess the reason behind their smiles: Too wide. Insincere? Too brief. Do they even care? Too eager. Ulterior motive? The real world with its real smiles was perplexing, exhausting. Plastic smiles suited her better.
"Classic"
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