Flash Fiction Friday: Flush

She was flawless.

She was perfect.

She was done.

I had built her from scratch, starting with just a few wires and batteries. From there, she grew.

Her feminine shape was molded from synthetic carbon. She looked real. She looked alive, but inside was not muscle and blood. It was steel and machine.

Yet, when she turned to me, her pigment-free eyes meeting mine, color rose in her cheeks. Her pale flesh flushed pink.

That’s… not possible.

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Inspired by artist Guweiz’s ‘Suit‘ from Deviantart.

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