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“And how many people have you killed?” “Zero,” I told her, appalled. “How many people have you killed?” “Hey, I’m Human.” “Humans kill all the time.” “Yeah, but indirectly. By making health insurance too expensive or stubbornly opposing gun control. You guys suck people dry to survive?”
Because we’re all bad bitches—till a scowling Were stands outside the bathroom door while we’re washing our hair.
“So far, Humans are worse. They do shit like burning the Amazon rainforest or leaving the toilet seat up at night.
“Maybe some things transcend reciprocity. Maybe not everything is about having.”
He shakes his head, eyes burning into mine. “You’re not a problem, Misery. You’re a privilege.”
