It's just a love story. Or not.
Regular Bob was your typical unfitted-brown-plaid wearing, pattern balding engineer in his mid 30's. He wasn't unintelligent in the least, although his increasingly unsociable nature made him seem otherwise. He was one of those guys who woke up at 7:30 A.M sharp every single morning and led a mundane life, night after night, which facilitated the the perennial bored expression on his face. People didn't so much as give him a second look when they walked past him. He was what people would be referring to when if they said "a part of the crowd". It was almost as if being invisible was his super power, and he didn't mind it. Not in the least.
His 100 sq. ft laboratory was the beginning and end of his world, where he spent more than a mere majority of his adulthood.
On one fateful afternoon, in that very laboratory, after what seemed like an eternity of solitude, she, the product of his prayers, entered his life. She was he believed, the sole purpose of his existence and the lead role in all his dreams. She was an epitome of what was closest to his idea of perfect, everything he could ever wish for and more. She was smart, amiable, sincere and most importantly, his. Every single cell in his mortal being was proud of his association with her. She made him feel worthy, confident and cared-for, feelings almost alien to him, which he was beginning to get used to and more so, like. There was a multitudinous change in his attitude towards work, people and himself. Within no time, his life started to revolve around her as he realized that he plunged into the depths of love. He felt fulfilled and wanted to spend the rest of his life feeling that way. To make sure he did so, he wore his father's wedding tuxedo, the finest piece of clothing he owned and put his grand mother's engagement ring into his vest pocket. He was nothing lesser than ecstatic while he took her to his family church on the outskirts of town that weekend. That was the place his grandfather and his father had proposed to marriage to their wives, something he was to do that evening.
After he took a walk in and around the aisles of the church he spent his childhood in, drenched in nostalgia, he was overwhelmed as she patiently listened to him talk about anything and everything. He found that to be the opportune moment and so, went on one knee, pulled out his grand mother's ring, looked at her ever-so-calm face and asked, with all the happiness and hope he could muster "Will you marry me?" to which she replied "Command not found, Bob." Bewildered and aghast, in denial, he said again, almost screaming, "Uhh, I said will you marry me!" to which she replied "Command not found, Bob." Delirious in disappointment and deep agony he stood up and retreated his steps mumbling "Huuhh?", not knowing what in the world was happening. To that she replied "Re-processing request. Command not found, Bob." The demented savage within, took over his senses and he grabbed a candlestick, ran towards her and delivered a sharp blow between her eyes. And in just a matter of what was a split second, his masterpiece, his fame and fortune, the product of his attention, care and years of blood, sweat and tears in the confinement of that laboratory, his everything, went crashing down. The spell of beautiful silence that night was broken by a loud wailing shriek. There he stood, in the middle of the 1700 year old church, numb. He felt his legs combat the burden of his weight as he collapsed on to the floor, as he refused to believe what just happened. She lay there before him still, lifeless. Her face was consumed with peace, a look she wore at all times. He was the reason for her destruction, more so, his own, as he lost the will to live.
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