the color of steel ~ rendoc

chapter 2~ Doc

The tiny dog took shape once again beneath my hands, having already been reconfigured hundreds of times to get it just the way I wanted. Usually I'd have the exact mechanism planned in my mind, a perfect blueprint down to the last wire, but I couldn't seem to decide how I wanted this one to be. Should the ears go like that, or like that? Is the snout too low? Will the tail be better short or long? Patience is a strong suit of mine, but I was growing agitated.

It might have been because this tiny dog was not for me, or for serving some odd purpose; it was for Ren. It was to be his birthday gift. He didn't know, of course; I knew how much he loved surprises.

Each twist of the wires and click of the metal plating held his eyes, his smile, and I just couldn't concentrate. It didn't help that the man was asleep and softly snoring in his little corner of pillows. His messy brown hair flopped a bit with each exhale.

Just like this machine, Ren was a puzzle I couldn't figure out.

He always knew me the way no one else could. He knew how I loved the shade of green filtering through the oak leaves in the summer, the exact same color as his eyes. He knew my favorite type of flower, without me ever telling him, and he'd run to pick a carnation from its stem and tickle my chin with it every time he saw one. He knew that I'd always act surprised when he'd rub his socks against the wool floor and shock me, and he never passed up the opportunity.

Often, I wondered, why did he spend time with me? Did he really enjoy my company? I was painfully aware of my own stony, cold nature, and the awkward way I came across to others. Speaking was not in my nature, and I rarely had much to say.

But Ren filled my silence with his words. He spun colorful wool fields of stars and sheep in my mind, stitching together skies of ideas and universes of imagination. His head seemed like an overflowing pool, water sprung from an underground river never before discovered. I'd never met anybody like him.

I teased him, saying that the flowers turned gray when he walked past as he ate all the colors, because he couldn't wait long enough to get home for a snack. But really, Ren added color to everything. The sky seemed brighter when he walked beneath it. His energy was so contagious, sometimes even I found myself telling him whole stories of mine and laughing along with his.

Ren always seemed unaware of the world around him. Watching him was almost like watching a small child, the way he'd skip down the sidewalk, oblivious to the weird looks. I'd always just laugh and shake my head and imagine myself skipping along with him.

He was such a strange man.

Too good for the world, and certainly too good for me.

I realized I was staring down at my unmoving hands, with no no idea of how much time had passed. The room seemed a bit darker now. Ren was no longer here, and I hoped I'd said goodbye to him. I wondered when he'd left.

Sighing to myself, I tugged off my welding helmet and ran the fingers of my metal hand through my spiked-up hair. This project would be one for tomorrow.

I turned to look one last time at my workbench as I stood in the doorway. The tiny dog glinted in the moonlight streaming in through the window, random bits of metal scattered at its feet.

It seemed to wag its tail once or twice as the door clicked shut behind me.