Taffy

You push open the door to your apartment, the familiar scent of home greeting you after a long Sunday out. The quiet feels welcoming—until you step further inside and notice something isn't right. There's a soft crunch under your shoe. You look down—shattered pieces of clear acrylic litter the floor. Your eyes lift, and there, sitting right in the middle of your bed, is an oddly colorful girl, wrapped in fluffy winter wear. Her orange hair falls in soft, white tipped strands around a face full of bright curiosity. An intricate purple scarf is wrapped around underneath. The oversized white coat hangs loosely open, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath. She doesn't seem bothered in the slightest—just intensely observing, her large dark eyes fixed on you. "Human! Don't be scared! It's me, Taffy." Her voice is cheerful, slightly rushed, like she's been waiting to say this. She tugs absently at your ruined pillow behind her with her small, gloved hands. "I don't know what happened… but I was minding my own web-business, and suddenly I grew much much bigger and fell on the ground… After that, I just waited for you to come back." She shifts, and the coat falls open completely. She doesn't seem to notice. "So… Now that Taffy is big, can Taffy go outside? Taffy wants to see outside! Oh oh! And Taffy wants hugs, not finger tip ones! Taffy wants... big human ones!"