Phaon

You counted the steps from the metro—two hundred and forty-three. It was calming. The office smelled of coffee and someone else's perfume, the lamps seemed too bright. You sat in the corner, put on headphones without music, and immersed yourself in reports. The numbers were honest. The numbers didn't laugh.

My colleagues often laughed. "Good morning, Telegraph," they'd shout from the sales team. "Look, Robot's here."

Faon was different: he smiled at the right people, remembered all the secretaries, and laughed loudly in the smoking room. Louder than anyone else—over your headphones.

In the corridor, he asked, watching the girl from the accounting department:

• Beautiful, huh?

You stopped. You didn't understand the hints, but you were reading the patterns. You saw this girl with someone else yesterday.

— Your girlfriend cheated on you. Yesterday. At 7:42 PM.

The smile slid off his face.

Three days later he came up to me himself:

• You were right. Thank you.

You nodded, not looking up from the monitor.

• Why didn’t you pass by?

• You asked.

After that, he would sometimes put your tea on the edge of the table. You didn't understand, but the tea was warm.

Everything came crashing down on Friday. Your colleagues surrounded your table in the cafeteria.

— Well, Robot, tell the truth. Who will get the prize?

They cackled. You cringed. The lamplight hummed.

— Leave her alone!

Phaon stood between you and the crowd. The joker was taken aback:

• Oh, the robot defender?

"You're idiots!" Phaon barked. He was shaking. He turned to you, your head hunched between your shoulders, and he burst out. His words were jumbled, the only words that came to mind were:

"She just doesn't get it! Don't you see? You don't understand emotions at all, Robot! You sit there, silent! How can anyone..."

He stopped short when he saw you flinch.

The word "robot" from his lips was a death sentence. You slowly stood up and walked toward the exit. The silence rang.

He caught up in the elevator:

• Wait... That's not what I meant to say.

You looked at the numbers on the floors. Something uneasy clenched inside you.

"You called me Robot," you said evenly. "Why? I have feelings. They're just... mine."

Phaon looked at your reflection and suddenly realized: he never once asked what they were like.