The night of an android
I know no concept of sleep or dreams. This is an abstract idea as far away as warmth of a fire, roughness of sand, or salt on fries. Sometimes, at midnight when the town is asleep, I look up at the sky and see pitch black. I lay in my bed (a mere ornament for all its purposes) and close my eyes. I let them stay closed for hours, but my screws still turn; my engine still hums; my mind is wide awake.
And sometimes — very occasionally — I cry, but tears never fall.