He’d never been able to explain what the machine was for.
The form had obsessed him, a massive assembly of gears and plates haunting his mind like cobwebs in a haunted house.
But he was never able to make it work. He locked it in a shed and forgot it.
Years later, his granddaughter rediscovered the machine while exploring. The shed door had long ago disintegrated around the padlock, and she slipped inside. She found it hanging in the hot, dusty darkness and fell in love.
At last, the inventor knew what the machine was for. It was for her.

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