"Are You A Robot?"

“Are you a robot, Mister?”

John looked down along with her. His mismatched legs were stretched out in the sunlight. One was normal, cotton sock stretching above his ankle and red converse tapping a simple beat on the grass. The other was black metal and plastic, a prosthetic where his leg used to be. He could see why she thought of him as a robot. He rubbed his leg absently, his face dropping into a stern grin. It hadn't seemed like a sunny day to him before, but now it felt grey and stormy.

“Oh, this?” He asked. The girl nodded. “I-I lost my leg in a war a long time ago.” He told her, his voice catching a bit. John shook his head at himself mentally. It had been ages ago. His hand curled into a fist as he remembered and he dropped it back to his side. The red converse foot continued the simple beat. “Do I look like a robot to you?”

The girl looked up at him with big eyes, but John wasn't paying attention to her anymore. When he wasn't looking at it, he could almost forget the war, forget everything that had happened to him... The doctors all called him traumatized, unstable, confused.

“Well, robots are machines” The girl was saying. John tucked his hands inside his coat's pockets. It was getting chilly outside. Somehow, the sun didn't feel quite so warm.

“And you're a machine, John, aren't you? A killing ma-”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)