my first kill. The way his lungs shook—the sight of his flesh torn open—it was the first time I looked at a human body and saw a machine. And I was… well, annoyed, to be honest,” I confess, hoping she doesn’t think less of me. “I remember it taking a lot longer than I was expecting, and it made me super late for lunch.” She strains her neck to glance at me, like she’s trying to decide if I’m lying or not. Gravely, I explain, “It was my favorite casserole.”
