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I'm sitting on a beautifully decorated patio, the gentle rain sliding off of the tin roof above my head. The house behind me is warm and inviting; a house that I've spent a couple hours in already, and have now grown tired of. No one really knows what to do with you when you lose someone.
Now I sit on the grey brick edging of a flower bed, clad in an outfit that is simple and comfortable, made out of expensive material, my phone in my hand.
My arms rest on my knees as I look out into the back yard in front of me. The grass is bright from the rain, the flowers reaching high to drink in all of the moisture.
The raindrops bounce off of a small pond that harbours colourful fish; fish that leap again and again, trying to eat the bubbles as if they're food.
I close my eyes and focus on the peace that nature is presenting, the steady thrum of rain like a heartbeat, the soft winds coming and caressing my face like the gentle touch of a loved one. All of it is comforting. A small taste of what it was like before.
The bricks shift slightly as someone comes and sits down beside me. I don't open my eyes. I hear someone else sit in the antique chair that's placed right behind me, in the garden. I don't open my eyes.
A chilled hand is laid upon my left shoulder from the one sitting beside me. A gesture that is meant to be comforting. I don't know the giver well, but I know that their intentions are pure. I accept the comfort with a lowered head.
The one behind me lays their hand on my cheek, and, being more comfortable with them, I lean my head into the cold metal, letting them support me in the quiet way that they know how.
A robotic voice, in an effort to mimic sympathy, says quietly, "I am sorry for your loss. . ."
Another voice, the one from behind me, is better at speaking with compassion. Sympathy. I know that they are. But they do not speak.
Instead, the phone in my hands vibrates. A text message.
'Rabbit', the top reads. The robot sitting behind me sent me a text message. Of all things. I can't help but smile a bit.
'Why are you so nice to him?' the text message reads. Another one comes quickly beneath it. 'He doesn't know how to treat you. You're in pain. You're mourning. And he's just rambling on about it all. How can you handle it? How do you do that? He's been my brother for years. I still can't manage to deal with it." I can't help but smile softly again at Rabbit's human irritating with his brother, and I toss a look over my shoulder to him. He's got a thin-lipped look, keeping his gaze away from me, his glowing eyes trained on his brother. Such an intense emotion from a usually lighthearted boy. The pressure of loss must be getting to all of us. My heart falls a bit.
Another text message. I think he's sending them straight to me from some sort of mechanism in his brain.
'Do you want to go on a walk with me?' it asks. 'The gardens are covered. We could go there.'
I stand up, reaching out my hand to take Rabbit's.
"Thank you, Hatchworth," I say, looking to the younger robot, smiling thankfully.
His face plates maneuver themselves into a smile. Not yet quite mimicking the appearance of my own smile, but close.
Rabbit stands and takes my hand, enclosing the cold metal around my warm skin. He walks smoothly with me toward the gardens, despite his robotic build. Over a century of practice has made him able to mimic human actions well.
Only after we are well out of Hatchworth's sight and far into the gardens does Rabbit stop and turn to me, his photoreceptors glowing softly, emulating to the best of their ability gentleness and concern.
I lean against a post, the rain thrumming the canvased roof but slipping off of the material.
I sigh, and let myself slump against the post. Rabbit emits steam in an effort to heave his own sigh. He leaves me be for a few moments before lifting my chin with a metal finger to look into his eyes.
No matter what others say, I see a soul in the glow of those photoreceptors.
"Are you okay?" His voice is more human than I've ever heard it. Tears prick my eyes.
"I'm not sure, Rabbit," I whisper, gazing at him. Affection wells up inside of my heart, the flower of warmth growing and blooming into a beautiful new thing, despite the darkness of loss that threatens to shroud the sunlight. I step toward him, wrap my arms around his clothed steel torso.
He gently wraps me in a metallic embrace, one hand holding my head gently to his chest. He rocks me back and forth, humming a quiet, slow tune.
And when I begin to cry, he makes sure that his comforting grip never falters.