Portal 2 - Cube

The cube. Out of all the possible things the old hag could have possibly given me for a souvenir, she hands over the freaking cube. The old, ratty cube with its corporate consumerism on the side. With the burn marks, because she had me throw it in the incinerator in some sick game (probably designed to teach me “independance” while forcing me to remain codependant with her and so ruining the exercise) even though she always knew it’d survive (because fun fact: ceramics aren’t usually combustible).

It’s too much, really. Far, far too much. Emotions well up, and now that I can finally show them without having to care about some robot peeking, I let it out. I laugh. I laugh and I laugh and I’m not sure when I stop, if ever.

Then, I look again at the brave new world ahead of me, and I leave the ratty old shed behind, cube and all.