To: yikes!izzy
Date: Monday, February 27—8:14 PM
Subject: rain and robots
Dear Isabel,
I’m imagining that you’re off in some tropical paradise right now, listening to waves lap against the sand. Maybe you’ve outrun the rocks and barnacles here. Maybe you’ve made it safely to a softer, kinder place.
It’s been raining for a week. Is it raining where you are? Señor is depressed and refuses to go outside. Mom even bought her a little doggy raincoat, but as soon as it was on, her tail went between her legs and she looked as embarrassed as a dog could possibly look. We’re all suffering from the winter malaise, I guess. Everything’s moving a little slower than usual, as if I’m running through mud.
There was a period of time when I was little when I was convinced I was the only real human on Earth. Everyone else were robots posing as humans, even my parents. I was the only one who really felt feelings and thought thoughts, the only one who had a soul. Of course, I never stopped to ask myself why I thought this, what proof there was to support this theory. I remember it as something I just felt deep down inside, that it was just impossible that all these people around me could have their own internal worlds that were as real and important as mine.
But why would a robot need to drink a bottle of wine and stare into a fire all night? There are things going on inside my mom that have nothing to do with her being my mom. I guess part of growing up is realizing more and more that the world doesn’t revolve around you.
Now I must try to convince Señor Cuddlebones to brave the drizzle for her nightly walk. She’s looking at me right now with an eyebrow raised, as if saying, “I know what you’re thinking, and it stinks.”
Love,
Connor