Imagine discovering an animatronic sex doll hidden in the garage. What would you do? Dolores initially does nothing. She assumes the doll belongs to her husband, David, and their relationship is already strained. They’re not young, they’re not old; they have no children, they keep up with the markers of being middle class and Dolores is well versed in keeping men’s secrets. But then, Dolores and Zoey start to talk. What surfaces runs deeper than Dolores could have ever expected, with consequences for all of the relationships in her life, especially her relationship to herself. Hey, Zoey is a propulsive story of love, family, and trauma in our tech-buffered age of alienation, as strange as it is familiar.
