The little white bot looked on at the smoldering ruin that used to be his home, eyes wide with disbelief. The only world that he had known, gone. His beloved master was nowhere to be found. Not even of his own volition, he had been cast out into the cold world.
In the skies above, dark clouds rumbled and roared. The pattering of rain came soon after.
It mocked him. If only it had come sooner, so the great fire would have been extinguished. But no, it rained and rained and rained all too late. The little white bot's home and former life were turned to ash, all his happy memories destined to remain in the past. For him, it all had ended too soon, and he lamented for having taken his life for granted.
For the first time in his life, the little white bot was truly lonely. Tears of translucent red formed over his glowing optics. He had nowhere to go, no friends to help him seek shelter, no shoulder to cry into, no place to give him love. The only company he had was the storm that wept with him.
In time, his loneliness would transform into solitude, his pain into strength, his sadness into compassion, his strife into modesty. For now, however, it was the end of his beginning.