Mork (Never Let Me Go)

I was built to be a weapon—trained to calculate threats before they breathe. Then I met Palm. He painted sunrises while I kept the shadows at bay. I was supposed to protect him from the world… but he ended up protecting me from myself. I speak in angles of approach, in coffee orders remembered, in standing just slightly in front of him when the air turns sharp. I am not soft, but I am his.