A/N: I've been thinking about the film "Her" recently and decided to use it as a springboard for this fic. I'm also aiming for 1250 word chapters on the dot, since it's been a while since I've been really harsh with long-fic word counts and I feel like being oddly precise right now.

Let me know what you think!

Lying on the Moon

-and I know that right now, the situation isn't the easiest. I also know that no words will ever be able to convey just how much it pains me to be away from you at this moment, but we both know there is no way around it; I would never want to hold you back from achieving your dreams. That being said, please never forget that I may not be with you now, but I am waiting for you, always. When you're finished with school, you have a home waiting for you. My home is with you.

I love you. Be safe! Study hard! I'll work hard too.

Talk again soon,

Emily

Clover sighed, pushing his keyboard away from him as his eyes roved over the screen for the nth time. He could not find any faults in the letter; it matched his client's writing style and fulfilled all of her specifications perfectly. His heart skipped a beat. But what if-

Before his brain could trick him into anxiously rereading it, he sent it off to his client, only letting out his held breath once the icon indicated that she had received it. Only a few moments later, his inbox pinged, and he received a reply.

"She's happy with it," he sighed, relief easing some of the tight tension that had been building up in his broad shoulders all day. "I'm done."

With that, he turned off his monitor and staggered to his feet. The moment the holoscreen collapsed, however, he was taken aback; without the shining lights from his work terminal, his entire living room was dark, the sun having long since set over the frigid snowy cityscape outside his window. The only lights illuminating his apartment came from the stovetop and microwave clocks in his kitchen, and the constantly shifting glow from the city's traffic, colours flashing hundreds of feet below.

Cracking the kink in his neck, Clover grimaced as his bones creaked. I need to work out some more, he thought bitterly, massaging his wrists. He had been doing nothing but sitting at his terminal as of late.

His Scroll began to beep in his pocket, so he pulled it out and answered the call, not bothering to look at the caller. "Hey, James," he murmured, voice cracking slightly from disuse and fatigue. "What's up?"

His boss' voice was kind, knowing- already holding all the world's wry exasperation within, James replied, "I'm still at the office. How did you know it was me?"

"…"

He could hear James sigh on the other end. "It could've been Winter calling, you know."

"She respects work hours."

An impatient click of the tongue. "Fair enough." His voice grew kind. "And knowing you, you just finished writing despite your workday having ended hours ago."

Clover shrugged, ambling over to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows on shaky legs, numb after so many hours of sitting in the same office chair. "I work on commission."

"You also need to sleep, Clover. This isn't like you." The younger pursed his lips, biting back his frustration as James added, "You haven't signed the papers yet, have you?"

No, of course he hadn't; the only reason Clover wasn't bothering to turn on the lights was because he knew exactly what he'd see upon the illuminated kitchen table: a stack of paperwork strewn haphazardly across the surface, covered in name-change documents and annulment forms and a singular pen that would sign the death warrant of his formerly-peaceful life. He didn't want to look at them anymore, having already read them so many times over the past week that he could recite the fine print by heart far easier than any of the letters he had written for his work.

Finally, he croaked out, "The divorce won't affect my writing, James. Give me time to work it out."

The elder sounded worried, but not out of annoyance. "I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't worried about your performance, but… I'm more worried about you. Take some time off if you need-"

"I'd really rather not." Having tasks to do every day was the only thing keeping him sane. He couldn't give it up; how would he even function without routine?

After all, his job gave him the greatest gift of all: an escape. It was easier to forget the reality of the world crumbling around him when he had commissions to fulfill, when he had letters to pen between lovers, family members, employers to their workers; it was easier to forget that the only person he held dear was leaving him behind when he could write words of love and affection day-in, day-out, living out the lives of others vicariously. He had always loved his job for the happiness and peace of mind it brought those not as adept with the gift of writing vulnerably. Now, he needed his job.

James let out another weary sigh. "You say that, but you missed our meeting today. Did you even remember it?"

Clover winced, picking up a glass of water from the living room table and taking a gulp. The water tasted old, stale; he couldn't even remember when he had poured it. It was enough to quench his parched throat, however. "I'm sorry about that. I'll set a reminder, okay?"

"No need."

For a long second of pure silence on the other end, Clover heard his own heart fall to the floor, shattering. Was- was he going to lose his-

"I've sent you a little gift. It's on me- go check it out."

Flustered, Clover shuffled over to his terminal, his slippers swishing across cold, dusty hardwood. Flicking on the holoscreen once more, he opened up his messages, only to find a forwarded advertisement from James. "What is it?" he asked, squinting against the sudden bright light streaming into his face once more as he opened up the ad. Bold colours flashed out at him right away, product logos and price points and descriptions and reviews all a little too overwhelming for him at first glance. He paused, taking a look at the time- no wonder it's hard to read; when did it become so late?- before actually examining the main sale item itself. "…a personal assistant?"

"Yeah," James murmured. "I thought it might be a good tool. The CEO of Polendina Enterprises is my old friend, and when he mentioned that they were launching a new product, I thought of you right away."

"Why?" Clover couldn't see anything that stuck out to him; nothing about this new artificially-intelligent personal assistant screamed, "I'd be perfect for someone who basically writes love letters for other people for a living", so he wasn't quite sure where this assessment was coming from.

"Apparently, this AI is the smartest in its class of products, and the speech patterns have been praised as being almost supernaturally human."

"…okay?"

"When's the last time you had someone around to just… talk to everyday, Clover?"

He didn't respond. He didn't even want to think about it.

James murmured gently, "My point exactly. Try it out- the download using the code in the ad is free, so if you don't like it, you can always delete it."

"Fine."

"Take care, okay?"

"Sure."

"Winter should be sending you the next batch of clients tomorrow."

Clover smiled, lips cracked, wan. "That sounds good."

And with that, he ended the call, turned off his holoscreen again, and stumbled to his bed, far too cold and wide and for him alone.