tim & moby; more than best friends

The letter

It was a humid evening in Georgia. Tim wiped a bead of sweat from his feverish forehead. Pulling open the sienna mailbox, a creme colored envelope slipped his hands. "For Tim And Moby", it read out on the back, next to their address.

Tim remembers when him and his best friend, Moby, first started their hit educative website, BrainPop!
"Has it really been ten years?" He mutters to himself as he walks past the lawn to the door him and Moby had bought more than a decade ago. They had started the website when the internet was still crude and in its developing stages, Facebook was still not famous, and MySpace was all the rage. Tim feels the time that has passed as if it were concrete, as if he would feel in the palm of his hands. They had started when Moby was clean and shiny, oil and never creaky. Tim had a clean shave and thick, rich oaken hair. Now, Moby needs to be oiled more frequently. Tim's hair is lightly dusted with white wisps. But, in all honesty, Tim doesn't care. All this time, it had brought him and Moby to be closer than ever.

He enters the living room, keys jangling in his pocket.
"Hello €£¥******€]>|£\*]€]£ Dear Timothy" Moby buzzes as he saw Tim enter.
"Hey," Tim smiles keenly.
"We got a letter, you want to record us answering the question for BPop?"
Moby nods effervescently.
Moby sets up the camera, and hits record as Tim is about to speak. Tim pulls a meringue white paper out of the envelope, and begins reading aloud.
"Dear Tim and Moby,  what is love, really? My mom, Grisha Praytas, keeps telling me she loves Jesus and I am confused. Sincerely, Hugh Jass."
Moby shoots a glance at Tim as the word "love" is said. The way Tim speaks seems flawless.!Moby, a hopeless romantic knows the taboo of interrobotic relationships, but he can't help to fall. He stares longingly into Tim's hazelnut eyes, his salt and pepper hair, and porcelain skin. What was there not to love about Tim? He had been his best friend since his original programming, and had always been kind to him. But not too kind, Moby reminds himself. He doesn't think Tim would every be able to love him the way Moby does. Unless? His head is racing. His monitor is pounding, just looking at Tim.

"Moby, what do you think?" Moby snaps out of this trance. He realizes that Tim has been speaking all this time.
"Well офлайн ••¥¥¥¥••• I believe для зуи Love is when><<<<>>>> friend." Moby whirs. A friend. Is that truly love? That is all Moby could think of, because Tim has only ever been his one love, and Tim is his best friend.
Tim clicks off the camera suddenly. "Moby, I don't think that is very accurate, remember, we want to talk philosophical ideas rather than subjective ideas. How about you talk about Kant?"
Right. Because Tim, his friend doesn't see him like that. Or at least Moby believed so. But what he doesn't realize is that as Tim read the letter, he thought of Moby. The guilt he feels puts him off, but the love he feels for Moby overrides it. Robots and humans can't mix. And they run a business togethor? What would others think?

Moby responds to Tim's suggestion with a mundane one to cover his pain. "Okay. Let me research my data base."

Tim's eyes, glazed over, stare at his big bronze chest as he says, "Take five, okay Mobes?"