The night was to be perfect. When she arrived, he tore off her ridiculous packaging and kissed hard, inflating her. Without a wrinkle to her shiny skin, glistening eyes or unblemished face, he knew that devoting himself to her was right. Incorruptible even, because
she was his and he was hers. She squeaked when he pressed against her plastic lips or thrust
into her purpose-built form; whimpers of pleasure as their heavenly moment unfolded. The
night was perfect… until she sagged beneath him.

        While he examined her body for holes, a sad, broken voice invaded his mind. ‘Do you
think I’m kind?’
        …
        Quivers overcame him. A stupid thought he couldn’t understand the origin of. Worse,
he didn’t know the answer. Then he chuckled and shook his head; because there wasn’t an
answer.
        Gaffer tape soon solved her deflation, allowing them to continue toward divine ecstasy
together as he squeezed harder and harder. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

 

        Pop!

        Lying on his bedroom floor, the sun had bleached her complexion, hard creases ran
from head to toe and heat from his radiator seeped into her false skin, drawing out an

intolerable stench. To think he’d practically worshipped her once. The only evidence she’d
ever been loved were the black patches it took to barely keep her functioning.
        It was time for a new one.