It’s a little late, but it’s here! This is for the prompt on April 5, 2023.
Mother hates her. She also hated the idea of a seeing eye dog and its fur and drool and poop. I even offered to clean it up, but Mother just scoffed at me. She said charging batteries and oiling gears is much better—well just better.
I like her though.
Beeps and chinks sound above me as the cool silicone of my eyebot’s arm rests against my forehead.
“Your fever is spiking,” it says, its voice sounding like a caring grandma. Or at least what I imagine one to sound like.
I snuggle deeper into my light blankets, hating how gross and icky I feel.
“I’ve got to head out now if I’m going to make the show in time,” my mother shouts from the ground floor.
“Mom,” I cough, trying to be loud enough to get her to hear but my throat is on fire. “Can you stay home tonight? I don’t feel so great.”
Footsteps turn into stomping, and the front door opens.
“You don’t need me. That’s what the robot is for!”
The door slams shut, and she’s gone.
My breathing hitches, and I can barely get the words out. “Eyebot, do you do hugs?”
More beeps. “Do you need a hug?”
“Yes.”
My covers shift, and cold silicone slips in next me. My eyebot is taller than me, probably shorter than my mother. I snuggle it. Its body is smooth and hard, and it feels weird, but my breathing settles and I drift off to sleep.
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