And so as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It's probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.

...she opened the door very slowly and carefully, half hiding behind it, as if badly frightened of what might be waiting for her on the other side. And considering that it was me waiting, this showed rare common sense.

Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.

I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.

It’s an odd term, 'girlfriend,' particularly for grown persons. And in practice it provides an even odder concept. Generally speaking, in adults it described a woman, not a girl, who was willing to provide sex, not friendship. In fact, from what I had observed it was quite possible for one to actively dislike one’s girlfriend, although of course true hatred is reserved for marriage.

That's why I liked him, I think. Another guy pretending to be human, just like me.

When faced with people who have very limited conversational skills and no apparent desire to cultivate any it's always easier to simply go along.