Then why are you still here?” I ask. I stand up and her gun follows me. I welcome its bullets just to see if I could survive.“Masochism.”“I don’t know what that means.”“It means I like my own pain.”“That doesn’t make sense.”“I’m human. You think we ever make sense?
Tessa Maurer, The Toxic Children
fantasy, fantasy-fiction, post-apocalyptic, science-fiction, short-stories