But as I have noticed on more than one occaision, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.

Getting yelled at by a furious woman should be treated as a semiformal occasion.

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?

I had become a perfect fake human, saying the stupid and pointless things that humans say to each other all day long.

The students we saw were all bright, attractive, and polite, and the teachers all seemed to be smart and dedicated, and I began to appreciate the benefits of a private school education. If only I'd had the opportunity to attend a place like this, who knows what I might have become? Perhaps instead of a mere blood-spatter analyst who slunk away at night to kill without conscience, I could have become a doctor, or a physicist, or even a senator who slunk away at night to kill without conscience. It was terribly sad to think of all my wasted potential.

Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.