Lovestory

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Mam should have guessed something was wrong as soon as the father entered the nursery. His ears were slanted back, his ruby fur fluffed. He smelled as sad as a cracked egg. But Mam ignored him, skimming her reading finger down the leaf of her lovestory. It was about a family just like theirs, except that they lived in a big house in the city with a pool in every room and lots of robot servants. That family loved one another, but bad people kept trying to drive them apart.

“How’s the scrap tonight?” The father shut the door behind him as if it were made of glass.

It was then that Mam realized the mother wasn’t with him. “What is it?” She bent the corner of the leaf back to mark her place. The father and mother always visited together. She loosened her grip on the lovestory and it rewound into its watertight case.

“Wa-wa, it’s the lucky father!” The scrap tumbled out of the dark corner where she had been hiding and hugged the father’s legs. “Luck always, Pa-pa-pa!” The father staggered, almost toppled onto the damp, spongy rug, but then caught himself.

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