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“Haven’t you trusted anyone in your life before, Miro?” she asked. Had she ever used his name before?

“My name is not Miro,” he said, the words a surprise to hm.

“What is your name?” she asked, quickly sensing that she had slipped through his guard again.

“I cannot tell you,” he said, angry at himself for another betrayal. “Why should it mean anything to you? Why do you come to me like this in the night?”

“Because we are both human. We’re both human beings caught in this terrible thing.”

“I am not caught,” he said. “It’s my wish to be here. This is my work, my duty. There is no other place in the world for me to be at this moment but here.”

She said nothing for a moment. She was really sad for him, in the way it’s possible to feel sad for something you do not understand. He was still a monster, of course. But who had made him a monster?

-Robert Cormier, After the First Death


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