Philadelphia. Some cafe near city hall. I am loath to admit, but it is currently raining. As it should have been expected.
A mechanical whirr fills the cafe, a quiet hum compared to the chatter of friends and acquaintances that are together taking refuge from the growing rainstorm that was predicted earlier by a mistakenly-dismissed meteorologist today. It would be a comfort, but my companion appears to be tearing up. I give her my attention.
“Tess, what is the matter?”
“Oh, nothing.”
A hand betrays her lie, quickly flying up from its resting place under the table to erase the evidence of her crying. I rest my chin on a knuckle and sigh.
“Look at you, wiping your own tears with the same hands that long to be held,” I reach out with my other hand, cupping her cheek in my hand. “He is not worth the tears.”
“Who will be?” she spat out with a stubborn breath. It’s obvious that her date did not end on a good note.
“For now, me.” I took my hand from her cheek and took her hand. My thumb gliding across the back of her hand in what I hoped was a comforting manner.
She looked at me like a child would at its mother if she said there would be no more sweets. Disbelieving. It is a natural reaction for a person of my composition. The difference between us is akin to two different worlds. The difference between Earth and Mars.
Like two players on the stage, following the choreographed patterns and dances to a silent audience, like it was always meant to happen that way. Tess and I followed those movements, dancing closer and closer until the lights dim and the act is over. And? Nothing.
Like two players after the play, we each have our own lives to live. Her heart long since torn apart by angry lovers and dates that never give the love she deserves. Chasing after a dream, a dream she wants to make a reality, often ending in heartbreak as is the story of our meeting in this cafe today.
And my life, if you could call it that. Going from one place to another, taking part but never truly taking part. For as human as I can be, humans have a way of knowing what is the trickery of machine. And I am anything but human. Everyone always judges.
Except for Tess. From the first minute of our introduction, she called me a friend. It is an experience I am still attempting to get used to.
And she still stared at me with an unreadable expression. Perhaps I spoke too candidly. There is often a time when humanity is surprised and shocked that a machine can feel. That a machine may emote. That a machine can grow fond; or, dare I say, love?
Then, she spoke, “For now, you.” A soft smile, and her hand gripped mine. Actions that would have made my heart, if I had one, melt. Tess was truly sweet woman, and I was anything but. Yet, she is my favorite human. She is Tess. And I am hers.
The Liberal Lens: Finding Life in the Moment 
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