Friday Fictioneers:Eulogy for Tin

”Listen. That was the worst thing I ever had to do. Bury him in a scrap heap. Oil change for my best friend. At the store, they were out of the usual, 10 W 30. And the old lady promised that he would be fine with synthetic oil. I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about, I told myself. I didn’t know that he was allergic to anything else. I swear on my life.”

”She’s a metallurgist? ”

”I think so. An alchemist is the same thing, right? “

”No, not if that’s her riding that broom and cackling, ” said Tom, pointing.

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