Pretty things, making sounds, to be bottled and mass produced, out on trucks and into homes. Adrian wondered at the machinery, humming and singing as Ella pushed and tweaked it, coaxing it into submission.
"You have to be kind," she says. "You have to treat it like a lover."
"A lover," I laugh, brushing Adrian's arm like paint, our little secret. "But it's just a thing."
"We're all just things," she turns to me. "Waiting to be broken."
When I saw her again her body had been contorted in ways a body shouldn't go; twisted and torn by her metal lover, her Pygmalion kiss rescinded by the gods. She had asked for an open casket, and we begged for it to close, unwilling to face what we might become if we stayed. Adrian took the bus home, and I walked to the factory. Reveling in the parts that made her unwhole, I heard it sing.
Originally I was going to go for a robots taking over the world twist, but decided against it since I seem to be running in that theme. I've been lurking Write On Edge for months now, and finally decided to join in. Please bare with me, these prompts are all first draft material. Thanks for reading!