The Simulacrum

“I love you,” she said, her silicone arms holding me close.

I smiled in return and turned her off. It was getting harder and harder to be with her these days. I thought that the simulacrum would ease the heartbreak, but instead it made it that more poignant.

My friends said that getting a simu of Becky would make losing her more bearable, but all it did was make her absence that more intense.

I’d get rid of the simu, but that would losing Becky all over again. I couldn’t deal with that again. I had put myself into a mental catch 22. Damned if I do get rid of the simu, damned if I don’t.

If only the simu wasn’t perfect replication of Becky, right down to her freckles. It was warm to the touch. It was just as passionate as Becky and even simulated her moods.

But it wasn’t her, but was in an odd way.

I’ve cut back my time with it, talking to it for only a few minutes a day. No sex, not after the first time. And I feel guilty turning it off afterwards.

It feels like I’m killing Becky all over again.

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