Max Hawkins staggered into the lobby of the building before dawn, and he couldn’t remember where he’d been all night.
He was alone. The wreath near the window reminded him of Christmas. He poured himself a cup from the carafe, remembering he took coffee black.
“We’re glad your back, Max.”
He jumped, spilling his drink.
“Sorry. I called out.”
“That’s quite alright,” said the older man. “You ran off, but I knew you’d come home.”
“Home? This is Automannequins.”
“Yes. You malfunctioned and forgot you were a sexbot. We have to get you packaged for delivery this morning.”
I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields photo challenge. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is 100.
I’m still sleepy this morning and coffee is very much on my mind. For some reason, looking at the photo, I got the image of one of those old Twilight Zone episodes where the main character can’t remember who he is and how he got into a given situation, with a surprise reveal at the end. That’s tough to pull off in a hundred words. My character is an automated AI “sex worker” who on some level decided he didn’t want the role. Oh well.
By the way, there are automated sex worker brothels now, including one opening up in Houston, according to this news story.
To read other tales based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.