I opened the rickety liquor cabinet and placed the jar along with the other ones. I marked the date and brand with a pen. If I ever had company, they’d have quite a selection of.. home-brewed liquor. The hinge squeaked as I shut it. I made a mental note to buy wood screws as soon as I got paid.
I flopped down on the bed, expressionless. Didn’t seem worth the effort to frown – my facial motors were already registering the strain from an evening of social interaction. They weren’t used to it anymore. It’d be a lot easier to just let them rust and walk around like every other garbage-collecting automaton. Let my face become a mask, note every time a pedestrian flinched away from me, do menial work for the rest of my life.
I forced myself to sigh and animate my face in an imitation of discomfort, before reaching for the can of lubricant over the bed. Sure, it was tempting to give up this facade, go back to menial labor. But I’d lose my mechanic’s certificate, and I’d lose what little personality I’d won.