Auntie watched the children dash over Friend's body. They would hold races on his legs, with pairs of runners clambering to see who would reach their foot first. They climbed the tree that had grown through the hole in his chest as if it were a graveyard marker. The slipped through the broken glass of his face mask, pretending his head was the cockpit of a grand spaceship.

In her earlier days, Auntie would shoo children off the giant robot carcass, even when she was no more than a child herself. But there were few adults left who had watched Friend walk the Earth. Perhaps, Auntie reflected, Friend would have liked becoming a plaything for shouting kids.

Before she was Auntie, before she was Mrs. Tate or Miss Katherine Lamont, she was Kit. Auntie remembered that night, when she was still Kit and she ran to the orchard where Friend was hiding, her tiny backpack heavier than it had ever been. Friend lifted his head above the apple trees and grunted at her in surprise. She had gotten away from the men in blue, she explained. Now they could be together. Friend's eyes glowed bright with a fierceness that was seared into Auntie's brain.

Friend scooped little Kit into his metal hands and swung her into the compartment in his chest. Closer to his heart, she thought. She climbed into the hammock she had suspended in his gyroscope and waited.

Once Friend was lying down again and the churning of his gears had settled into a gentle hum, Kit unzipped her backpack and stared inside. She thought about what her mother had told her. It wasn't Friend's fault that he was so destructive, but he couldn't be reasoned with. He'd killed the Miller family and stomped out half the season's crops. That didn't stop Kit's eyes from filling with tears as she armed the bomb.

Kit burst from Friend's chest with a speed that surprised even her, gravel flying beneath her feet as she ran for the road. She heard Friend moving behind her, and silently prayed that he wouldn't chase her. Under her breath, she counted out sixteen-Mississippi, seventeen-Mississippi, eighteen-Mississippi, nineteen-Mississippi…

Kit sprawled out her limbs as she threw herself to the ground, covering her ears as the explosion sounded over the orchard. When the heat from the blast subsided, she rolled onto her back in time to see Friend puzzle over the smoking hole in his chest before collapsing amongst the trees.

Auntie opened her eyes, returning to the present. She tapped her cane into the gravel and pulled herself over to Friend's body. She ran her hand over his finger, so warm in the sunlight. A lump bobbed into her throat. She wondered, as she often had over her many decades, how she could experience such guilt without regret.

"Auntie?" Auntie looked up to see a tiny girl peering down at her, a wooden sword in her hand. "What are you doing?" the little girl asked.

Auntie smiled as she patted Friend's frozen index finger. "Just saying hello to an old friend."