She imagined that deep inside his chest a tiny transistor battery powered his heart like in her old Zenith radio. The tick-tock of his artificial mechanisms drowned out his rote homilies, his analytical effort to dissuade her.
Encased behind dark sunglasses, rational and calculating, he was pragmatic to a fault. As if allowing himself to act on emotions, and not carefully reasoned facts, would tilt his world, automatically shutting him down, and costing him a game penalty.
Her perfect, hollow tin man rejected her pleas to pilgrimage to Oz. There is no omnipotent wizard behind the curtain, he said.
Thin spiral notebook 
My, what a killjoy!
I’ve known a few of those.
You captured him perfectly. :=)
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I like what you did here, the interpretation of dark sunglasses as hiding from leaping into something is well done.
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Love love love this.
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Some people are just too afraid to take a leap of faith. Well portrayed 🙂
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thank goodness for the tin man’s wisdom, eh? 🙂 I love your personification of him.
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oh it’s hard to love a person who doesn’t believe, who can’t conceive of the existence of magic. Isn’t it?
I loved the last line..it was arrogant and sad but beautifully written.
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I looked at the photo then after reading the words, the image became personified. The experience was as amazing as the words.
Wonderful.
AnnMarie 🙂
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