This story was written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by wonderful writer, Rochelle, on her website, Addicted to Purple. Each week, she provides us with a photo prompt and her own story, and we have 100 words to respond with out take. Anyone is welcome to participate–just give credit to the provider of the photo prompt (this week, thanks to Liz Young!), write your own story, and click on the blue frog below to read others’ work and add a link to your own.
“I wish you’d known her,” Paul said. “I mean—the way she was.”
Amy sighed. Since they started uploading personalities to robotic simulacra, everyone blamed “the process” for their loved ones’ shortcomings.
“Honey—don’t hate her. She loves you—she always—“
“She must’ve been an alcoholic before,” Amy said. “They say the bodies don’t crave—it’s the memories.”
“And there’s a reason she keeps doing this.”
Paul was still cradling the familiar head. This time, when Mom had destroyed herself, part of the face came off.
“We’ll get her fixed,” Paul said.
“We can’t,” Amy said.