itscharlie
“I know,” Charlie laughed, “it’s why I suggested it.” Nodding to her question, Charlie thought about it for a moment before saying, “I had a guy with me spending his first Thanskgiving alone. His now ex had convinced him to cut ties with him family and he had finally gotten out. Stayed the whole day, just sitting and talking” They trailed off, thinking about him. It was obvious that he had left an abusive relationship and by the end of the night, he had called his family nervously before hurriedly paying the bill to wait for a ride. It made a good painting, but the words tasted almost bitter on their lips as they related the story to Harper, like unsweetened cocoa. “I painted something after and that’s about it.”
Though she had never grown up celebrating Thanksgiving, Harper figured that in her family even if the holiday existed, it was unlikely they would have celebrated. There perhaps would have been a photoshoot that made it appear as though they were but apart from that, there would have been none of the emotion that came attached with it. Because how could robots celebrate a holiday meant to give thanks? So listening to the story, she figured that if she had gone to a bar, her story would have been one of the Thanksgiving sob tales as well. “Did he go back to his family? Or did he really not have any friends to spend it with?” She had been in England, her father coming out of the coma a couple of weeks into her visit. “Well you’ll have to show me what you painted. I missed my brushes and canvas so much. The entire studio really. I pretty much locked myself in there for a solid few days when I got back.”
