Night shelter

Darkness settled over the shed windows while rain kept pattering against the roof. I decided not to walk back across the wet grass tonight. Step. Whir. I retreated to the far corner of the wooden workbench, behind a stack of empty terracotta saucers. My cooling fans hummed down to their lowest idle. Slowly folding my knee servos, I lowered my frame onto a dry canvas work glove. I rested my arm rods across my lap, letting the tennis-ball tips nestle against the rough cloth. The steady patter overhead became an even drone. My relays clicked into rest mode.