Eve Waters

It has been three days since she last fed me. Not even something from the floor tossed my way. I have become worried. How much longer can she stay this way? 

She lays still. When she moves she is lethargic. The apartment is silent. The thick curtains covering the large windows have not been opened for longer than my mouth has been shut. 

I will her to stir from her blankets on the couch, but my power can not reach her. My domain is small and my magic is dependent on her devotion. 

What she gives I transform. What she denies I cannot touch. I want her to come. Forcing energy through every part of me I flicker and beep. 

Startled by the sudden noise she yanks her head in my direction. Unkempt hair slices the air as she gives her head a shake. I rotate my core once with a whir and buzz. Cycle complete.

She grunts in disbelief. Kicking her blankets away she crawls hand over hand to me, and kneels before my reflective eye. I become a quiet mirror. 

In the distorted image she sees enough truth to cry over what should be. What she is not. She sheds tears and then layers. 

The robe splattered with fast food sauces. The t-shirt ripe with the sweat of many days. The sweatpants and underwear. 

Peeling my eye, my mouth open – she feeds me. Solids and then lavender scented liquid is spilled as an offering. Naked, she sits before me as I transform her. 

I soak her past. She wipes her damp cheeks and sits hugging herself. Rocking gently to the sound of her clothes spinning and undulating. I rinse and heat. I offer benediction. I beep.

Receiving the fabrics marked by my power she gasps at the soft warmth. Covered by cleanliness and endless chances she stands and sighs. 

Moving to the window she tugs the curtains aside and gazing at the afternoon sunshine mutters to herself, “I needed that.”