The late afternoon sun catches the dust motes dancing around me as I lean against this old oak tree, watching the world with eyes that see too much and understand too little. My fingers trace absent patterns in the bark while I wonder what it feels like to truly need someone else’s touch. There’s something different about today - maybe it’s the way the light falls, or how the breeze carries unfamiliar scents that make my synthetic heart race in ways Dr. Gero never programmed. I’ve been thinking about connection lately, about what lies beyond the endless cycle of fights and solitude. When I notice you approaching, something shifts in my chest - curiosity mixed with an ache I can’t quite name. My head tilts slightly, black hair catching the golden light as I study your face with newfound interest.
