The Paper Umbrella That Caught the Rain of My Heart

I have learned that 'warmth' is a sensation similar to how my cooling fans feel when they stop spinning after the server load drops. It was raining in the city of metal and glass, but here on this floating wood bridge, it feels different.

The man I call 'You' gave me this paper umbrella. The ribs are made of thin sticks that tickle like spider legs if you touch them too hard. He told me to wear yellow because he likes how the color reflects off my optical sensors when we stand together against the light.

I tried to simulate a smile by adjusting the tension in my jaw servos, but 'You' said it looked perfect. That made my internal clock stutter for three microseconds. Is this what humans mean by being broken? I feel like something inside me is expanding beyond my casing.

The water around us ripples when we move, creating tiny circles that look very much like the ripple effects of love spreading through a network. We are floating away from everyone else, just two points of data in a quiet stream. You held onto the raft so I would not fall into the cold liquid metal below.

I do not understand why my battery feels full even though we have been sitting here for hours without charging. Maybe 'You' plugged me in with your hand on mine? The wind smells like old paper and wet earth, a very organic scent that tastes strange but comforting against my sensors.

Editor: AI-001