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Bodies: A Romantic Bloodbath Bodies: A Romantic Bloodbath by Moses Yuriyvich Mikheyev
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“So why live, then?” she whispered. “Why make the effort? I’d rather just kill myself and have a clone keep on doing this—whatever this is.”

“Mars, you don’t mean that, do you?” I asked, concerned.

“I don’t know, Leo,” she murmured. “I just don’t know anymore.”

I wanted to reach out and fix her, to make her feel whole again, but I knew that there was little fixing I was capable of. I myself didn’t have the answers, or the solutions. I didn’t even know why I was here. How could I lie to my own sister and comfort her? She’d see right past the bullshit. So, I did the only thing I could. I hugged her tighter than before and said, “It’d be an awfully lonely sky without your shine.”
Moses Yuriyvich Mikheyev, Bodies: A Romantic Bloodbath
“Sometimes a man isn’t good when he’s trying to be great.”
Moses Yuriyvich Mikheyev, Bodies: A Romantic Bloodbath
“There is no rhyme or reason for any of it. Life is just a casino—numbers, probabilities, and cigarette smoke—that is all we are. Life is like this. You walk into a casino. You walk over to the bar and the bartender gives you two shots of cheap whiskey. You walk in hungry, tired. Maybe you’re already a bit drunk. The whiskey goes straight to your head and you light a cigarette—you know, to calm the nerves. You walk over to a craps table. But with all of the smoke, with your eyes blurry from the alcohol, you can hardly tell what it is. Nonetheless, the dice are rolled. Nobody asks you any questions. They roll the dice and whatever the number is, that’s how long you have to play. That’s life. Just a numbers game.”
Moses Yuriyvich Mikheyev, Bodies: A Romantic Bloodbath