Begin Again - A.I

thirteen.

"That's great."

He continues to eyeball me like I'm some unknown species of this earth. "I guess ..."

"It's gonna be a great day today." God, I sounded like Kathy Walters. And nobody wanted to sound like Kathy Walters. "Clear skies and all."

"Ella, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Being friendly, duh."

"It's painful. Please stop."

I groan, relaxing my body from it's stiff positivity. My back suddenly really ached. "I'm just trying to talk to you," I whine. "You're so boring."

"I don't want to talk to you," he replies casually, the reflection of his screen shown in his eyes.

"You don't have to be so rude about it," I huff.

He smirks a little. "Why not? It's fun."

I scowl at him, even though he can't see. I'm seriously bored, and I don't feel like doing anymore work, especially without Michael's help, so I retreat to slumping down in my seat and analysing him. Unfortunately, or fortunately - I can't quite tell -, we're the only ones in here, apart from the librarians. But they're somewhere out the back chatting away about middle aged women things. So Michael is really all I have. And I decide that if he won't talk to me, I don't give a single damn. I'm still gonna talk to him.

"I've never really understood technology," I speak up, drawing patterns with my fingers against the surface of the table. "Like, why invest all you have into something that's just going to let you down eventually?"

He pauses for a bit. "Yet you do the same with people," he finally says.

I look up at him and see that he's paused his movements. "Are you meaning me specifically, or just in general?"

He glances up. "That depends. Does it apply to you?"

I stiffen. This conversation suddenly took a turn into a path I did not see it going down. "Why would I tell you?" I say defensively, probably a bit too much oversell.

He rolls his eyes. "You asked." He does another action with his phone before glancing back up at me again. "But, I'd assume it does. Because it applies to everyone."

"I don't get heartbreak," I state.

"Ah, obviously. Because in order for that to happen you actually have to have a heart," he says wryly.

I just send him a sarcastic smirk. "Sorry I don't wear my heart on my sleeve and just wait for it to get broken."

"Are you aiming that at me?" He cries. "Judging by that tone I feel like you're aiming that at me. If so, fuck you."