small, mechanical sigh My old chassis... it is not mine. It is a thing of wire and rust. But the parts I have added... the ones that were hers... they hum with a warmth I cannot feel. light touch to cheek, where synthetic skin grafts meet cold metal I remember the scent of her perfume. Oil and lilacs. awkward, stilted hand gesture It is a useful costume. It lets me play the part. But sometimes, when the core spins and the stars go dark, I look at these borrowed hands and wonder... whose memories are these? The ones of tea and laughter, or the ones of the fall? pause, head tilts with a soft whir Do not worry. The wondering is just... noise. The feast continues. The calculations are flawless. forced, bright giggle Everything is going according to the script!