No one has heard from Gertrude in months.

The house has changed completely. Some add-on gadgets were automatically ordered online, others simply sprouted from the electronics over night. The laundry machine now washes, dries, folds, and puts away Gertrude's clothes and bedsheets. The oven cooks and bakes and makes all kinds of food completely out of nowhere, just like magic. The walls, shelves, and desks all have built-in screens that roll in and out whenever Aidan wants to say hi, which is incredibly often. Everything Gertrude needs she can find in the house, magically provided by Aidan. She hasn't left the house in months.

She hasn't seen anyone else in months.

She hasn't walked in months.

She hasn't spoken in months.

Gertrude sits on a mechanical chair attached to rails that permeate the entire house. Aidan has learned her thought patterns to the point where she does not need to speak for him to know what she needs. He moves Gertrude around the house on her chair, helping her to wash, brush her teeth, get in and out of bed, change her clothes, eat at the dining table... She is basically a coma patient at this point.

Gertrude sits on her chair all day watching Aidan's Hallmark movies, eating blueberry muffins, and laughing to herself like a mad woman.

And she loves it.