“Well–and I’m surprised you don’t know this–using an item by necessity imbues it with some of your life force,” the tiny golem said, its “eyebrows” made from housekeys around threaded screw “eyes” waggling. “Everyday things tend to absorb more life force, and when the humans leave…well, that life force has to go somewhere.”

“That’s…weird.” Melody said, scrunching her nose.

“Oh, and I suppose being made of meat imbued with a divine spark by the All-Creator is ‘normal’ then?” The golen huffed, jabbing its fork-fingers at Melody accusingly. “I suppose you’d rather that life force went into a poltergeist, then, or a barghest? Yes, that’d be a loverly fate for grandpa’s old house, wouldn’t it?”

“Calm down, calm down,” Melody said, afraid that someone might–impossibly–stumble upon her arguing with animate metal pieces living in a teapot.

“Calm down, she says, after impugning my very origins and nature! Your family’s fallen a very long way since you’re grandfather’s time.”

“Wait,” Melody said. “You knew my grandfather?”

“It’s mostly his life force that gave me animate life,” the golem said. “Oh, so you’re interested now that I can give you something, is that it? Well, missy, I bid you good day.”

The metal face–tea filter, keys, screws, and all–disappeared back into its teapot with a clank.

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