I wonder, looking at the picture, who he was, to dream so... audaciously. Really. To even think he could surpass me-- us, I remember, looking over at her. Her belly is round and curved, like a ripe melon, and I smile. She does not reply; she is tinkering with some wires. I am sure in a few minutes she will have something ready that will sell for millions.
The man in the photo is looking off to the side at something else. He is wearing a bulky waistcoat. I should think he epitomizes the stereotypical inventor. Indeed, the fantastical creation beside him only gives further evidence to that. There is a Union Jack in the corner, besides one of the flashy headlights and above the checkered cutlery board (though what that's doing there, a celestial being above only knows). Patriotism. Huh. An outdated sentiment.
Did he have a wife and children? I think not. Such variegated creations would put off any woman, even the most forward. She was different, of course, and that was a different case altogether. I cannot compare myself with the likes of... him. What was his name?
Did he really think he could succeed?
"What is it, darling?" Her voice is rich and succelent in my ears, and I allow myself a smile before walking over and placing a hand on her belly.
"Don't you worry, baby. Just some silly humans."