The cold breathes hard against my window. All I can see is white, like I’m in the middle of a snow globe and some damn kid has gone and shaken the thing up as hard as they can. A toothpaste extravaganza.

 

Daisy don’t like it either. She’s been whining something chronic for the past hour, wanting to go wees, but she’s too soft to step outside. I suppose it’s not good for her. In the end, she widdled in the kitchen and I’ve had to clean it up. I can’t blame her, not really. And it don’t smell. She’s laid out by the fire now, but she’s still got that anxious look about her.

 

“Good dog,” I say, and I stroke her golden fur. “Nice to have a warm coat on, eh?”

 

Her tail gives a slight wag. That’s her way of agreeing with me.

 

Daisy and I don’t ever have any arguments.

 

I get up and throw another log on the fire. Nothing to do now, except wait for the blizzard to pass. News reports say it’s meant to be here for the day. “A good time to settle in and play board games with the family,” one of the news broadcasters had said in a cheery voice. Thing is, Daisy’s not so good at playing those kinda games.

 

I settle my old bones into my armchair when there’s a knock on the door. Ain’t no one in their right mind be out in this weather, so my first thought is that it’s just my imagination. But then Daisy’s ears prick up, and she barks, so she must’ve heard it too.

 

“What damn fool be visiting us in this weather, Daisy?” I ask as I shuffle to the door.

 

I open the door a smidgen and the snow’s just itching to come in, and the wind’s right on its heels.

 

At first, I think it must be the snow in my eyes, so I rub at them, but then he’s still there, Jimmy Shandler. Looking daft as always, with the biggest smile.

 

“What the Hell–” I start.

 

“You’re not gonna keep an old friend at the door in this weather, are you?”

 

I think my mouth is hanging about as wide as the door when I throw it open. Jimmy shuffles in with an old man walk, much like my own, and the blizzard tries to snuff out our fire.

 

Daisy’s barking a treat now.

 

I manage to close the door and Jimmy’s just standing there in the middle of my lounge. A white sludge’s dripping off his boots onto my carpet while he’s taking off his coat and getting cosy by the fire. Daisy’s sniffing all round him.

 

“I would’ve called Frank, but Mildred, you know Mildred, ol’ big ears, she’d be listening on the phone and so I thought it was better to come and tell you in person.”

 

“I thought you were mad at me. I thought–”

 

“Nonsense. How can I stay mad at me best mate.”

 

“I didn’t mean to. I–”

 

But my words fail me. I had meant to, hadn’t I? Isn’t that what friends do? Speak up when something’s not right. And Mildred wasn’t right. She hadn’t been for a long time.

 

“Look, that’s all water under the bridge. I came to tell you some news. About me and Mildred.”

 

“I’m all ears.” I went to the kitchen and poured us two whiskeys. I had a feeling I was gonna need it.

 

“Mildred’s got to talking about moving to a warmer climate, and well, we were thinking about a fresh start where not many people know us. So we’re heading to New Zealand.”

 

I half choked on my whiskey. “Great,” I lied.

 

“What is it, Frank? Get it off your chest.”

 

“Thing is, Jimmy, I don’t think you should be listening to Mildred about these kinds of things. Mildred’s not really Mildred, remember? She’s just a machine. Mildred’s dead and buried. And you can’t go on–”

 

“She is NOT!” he screams, like that little child shaking the snow globe.

 

I sigh. This was just like last time. When the robot had said it wanted to go to Disneyland, throw an eightieth birthday party, and own a kitten. I told Jimmy it had malfunctioned, needed to be rebooted, but he wouldn’t listen. Insisted it was Mildred. Then it had told him who to vote for, what clothes to buy, food to eat, even who his goddamn friends should be. The real Mildred had been sweet and charming. The machine Mildred was anything but.

 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Jimmy whispers, his head held in his hands. “Mildred was right. You haven’t changed. We leave in two weeks. I guess this is goodbye.”

 

He chugs back his whiskey, dons his coat, and walks out the door, back into the blizzard and leaving me in the cold.

 

After he’s gone I sit down with Daisy by the fire, scratching the back of her neck and trying to get warm again. The real Daisy died six months ago, and I get to wondering if I might be able to upgrade this one to play board games.