Flash Fiction: The Bomb in the Plaza

“May you live in interesting times."
-Anonymous

I'm in love.  And my skin is burning.  I can feel it melting.

We were going to meet here, in the plaza.  I had spent all day dreaming about it.  And now I can feel my body dying from the shrapnel in my chest.  I can't feel any pain- just hot metal.  I remember hearing how if you can't feel any pain, that's a bad sign.  The nerves are cut off.

We were about to meet.  That's the cruel joke of it all.  That's when the bomb took us.

Electric purple hair glowed from his head.  Artificial skin glimmered as he saw me.  I tingled.  Texas looked at me, his artificial eyes full of the same feelings I had.  A bot, Texas preferred to look like some extra in some music holo.  A body had been made mostly of shiny plastic and smooth purple steel.  He didn't like to brag.

He loved to brag.

I was in love with a machine.

My could see bone.  My legs.  Fire.

A purple shard of metal in my chest.  Sobs gripped me.

The bomb didn't let us have anything resembling a last moment.  I almost touched his lips to mine.  We both hadn't said a word.  You don't need to say words sometimes.  Sometimes, you just know.

A hair's breadth from each other, then thunder came.  Lightning struck out.  Fire.

But no pain.

The last moments confused me.  I could see Texas.  I couldn't see his face.  That robotic facsimile of humanity that I couldn't forget.  I wanted to touch him.  I wanted to say goodbye.

Then black started to flood my vision.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pile of wire and pieces.  A glowing purple eye blinked at me.  It lost power and flickered out.

No tears came out.  I wanted them to.  Maybe they were gone too.

Then just black.  There isn't anymore.