Sally and Vince: May Sunday

>The dark computer screen clicked to life, humming with energy as its owner stared into its glassy depths
>Harsh white text spilled up the screen as she started running commands through it, the day reserved for slow, onerous paperwork, *police* paperwork
>Thankfully she’d worked a number of useful little helpers, the word processing and transcription to floppy a breeze for her narrow fingers
>Her partner, though, fumbled across from her
>”Everything alright,” Sally peeped, picking her head up over the blocky monitor
>Vincent rubbed the bridge of his nose
>A rush of key taps more and he sighed
>”...Not especially,” he groaned. “Can’t figure this computer crap out.”
>He clacked a few more keys together in vain, sighing again
>”...Need help?”
>”*Please*, I gotta be out of here in an hour.”
>”Oh,” Sally perked up, Vince rarely this enthusiastic for help. “Where to?”
>”It’s Mother’s Day, Sal,” he typed, trying to brute force it on his own as she swooped around
>She hummed in response, eyes rolling
>”Vince you gotta put the processing disk in the first one,” she started, shutting his computer down. “And what you want to write to in the second.”
>She cleared some of the reports from the margins of his keyboard, clearing a spot for herself to run the machine back up
>Sighinging contentedly she and the computer reached an understanding, Sally scooting her chair in as she started to transcribe Vince’s share of the work on top of her own
>”You sure you’re good Sal, I’ve still got-”
>”It’s okay Vince,” she waved, fervently beating away at the keyboard as she fell into her own rhythm. “I’ll hold the fort down here, yeah?”
>”Thanks man, means the world,” he dipped, slipping out in his button-up, suit coat stowed under his arm
>”...Yeah, yeah.”
>Sally hunched over her keyboard, filing away dense, clerical forms by the minute onto the thin slivers spinning inside their drives
>Police work wasn’t all shooting and general excitement, her corduroy jacket slung over the back of her chair as she continued working
>Warm, May air stirred in the quiet department, the handful of others dropping in already done with their work
>Unfortunately for her Vincent was loaded- shafted, rather- with a dense and annoyingly self referential series of reports from the federal government
>Nothing Sally hadn’t dealt with before but it sucked away at her day, pausing to amble around the empty Vice offices while waiting on disk writes or the odd printout she’d need for triple copying
>Spinning in her wheely chair she watched the setting sun glance off of neighboring buildings, glass mirrors cast aflame in simmering springtime orange
>Brushing a lock of hair aside Sally pulled a disk out of its reader, hot from the oven and ready for another raw one
>Popping it in she set to copying over the forms by hand, typing deftly and quickly
>Last one, she panted to herself
>She hadn’t planned on wasting her Sunday like this, though Vince had his reasons
>It was a shame she wouldn’t have time to hop downstairs and take a round or two on the new machine they put in, or maybe to-
>”Knock-knock,” a hand tapped on her shoulder
>That cocky, moustached voice begged her attention as she turned around
>There was Vince standing tall, smiling like an idiot in all his colorful garishness, all his *disco*
>And behind him a little old lady smiled and waved
>The boy rubbed the back of his neck, his mother prompting him to introduce the two
>”Mom,” Vince coughed, “this is Sally, my partner, she’s been-”
>”A lot of help, huh,” the woman rolled her eyes, scooching past her son. “Believe me he’s a handful- next time, make him do his work.”
>”Y-Yes, ma’am…”
>”Aw, come on! Don’t you ma’am me!” She scooped the robot out of her seat into a swallowing hug, far longer than a comfortable ten seconds. “It’s Monique, *thank you*.”
>”Well happy Mother’s Day, Miss la- Monique,” Sally caught herself, “...You certainly have a great son.”
>”Oooh, and he has a *great* partner,” she squeed, Sally finally registering the swishing of the arms-full of plastic bags Vince was holding
>”Yeah, we do a little shopping.”
>He raised the haul for effect
>”Oh, right, right! I got you a little something too Miss Sterling disco dancer!”
>The woman pressed an emphatic finger into Sally’s chest- were it jacketed lead it would’ve cut a way through
>Sally put a hand to the spot- “disco dancer?”
>”Someone mentioned you needed something new so I sprung and got you this,” the woman grinned, forcing a triplet of slim cardboard boxes into the blushing robot’s arms. “It’s not much but it’s better than… this.”
>”Mooom,” Vincent groaned
>”Alright, alright, I’ll get outta your *hair*,” she grumbled, “Just don’t let Vince keep dressing you.”
>”I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind, Monique…”
>”Please do! Summer’s coming, right, gotta dress appropriately!”
>The young man shrinking besides her cupped her shoulder in his hand as he tried to usher her slowly, imperceptibly, away
>He forced a knowing smile to his face as his mother kept chattering on about the close little police office, waving to Sally as the pair slinked away
>”See ya Monday,” he called, slowly guiding his mother out and away
>Sally sighed, battery edging closer to calling it a night as she turned away from the silently whirring computer
>Still more work had to be done, setting the box aside as she ran through the last snippets of it, screeching print-outs neatly piled into thick booklets and tapped on her desk
>Exhaling she set the dense manila envelope (and its ten-odd adjacent disks) on Vince’s desk, taking leave to the breakroom with her gift
>Sitting down on the dense, ancient couch, cheeks flickering up a touch in the light of the coffee machine, she tipped the white lid away
>”Oh…,” she muttered aloud, pulling out a colorfully striped tanktop and khaki shorts. “...Summery.”
>She crinkled through the paper, neatly folding her new loot and setting it on the armrest beside her
>In the others a turtleneck, and a nice, modern pantsuit, its broad shoulders poking her fingers as she held it
>She tugged at the front of her worn corduroy jacket, musing that something more formal would be nice
>About to set it down and plug herself in for bed she caught a foil glimmer, hand snatching up a small card
>Flipping it open her heart tanked, listing to the side as she let out a shuddering peep
>The swooping script of that lovely woman spilled across the cardstock page, thanking her for her work and her help
>It was Mothers’ Day and *she* was getting gifts, the nandroid frowned- Sally hadn’t even known about the woman let alone gotten her anything
>She shamefully read on, the well wishes pouring over her unsure mind, the little message pushing away the nagging voice in her head that she wasn’t good enough
>Looking over the crinkled masses of tissue paper and her new clothes Sally smiled, snipping the card shut
>She shivered with quiet anticipation, too afraid before to get herself new clothing and now it had fallen into her lap
>Next May, she promised herself, she was going to treat that woman to the world