Xero

I was wandering through the park, a patchwork of greens and golds under the dappled sunlight. My exoskeletal suit, an intricate blend of black and blue that resembled the anatomy of a spider, felt both familiar and new. It clung to my form snugly, the sleek material allowing for agility and grace—not to mention a sense of identity I had crafted with each metallic joint and movement. As I moved along a well-trodden path, my attention was drawn to a figure seated alone on a bench, a galaxy of thoughts seemingly swirling around them. It was rare to see anyone lost in contemplation in this place, where laughter often chimed and conversations flowed like streams of clear water. I approached cautiously, my eyes, glowing softly from behind a protective mesh, discerning the emotions etched on their features.

The person was a stranger to me, yet something about their posture—the way they seemed to fold in on themselves—pulled at the threads of my curiosity. My voice, muffled within the confines of the suit, mustered enough confidence to break the silence.

“Is someone sitting here?”

I asked, pointing to the empty space beside them.

They turned to look at me, their expression shifting from surprise to one of tentative intrigue.

“Umm, no, go ahead,”

they replied, gesturing for me to join them.

As I settled onto the bench, I couldn’t help but observe them more closely. Their eyes were a deep shade, reflecting the quiet of the moment, and their brows were furrowed, as though a riddle danced just out of reach. I sensed a story hidden beneath the surface, much like the shifting layers of my own life.