Humans

Ted Richer

One last time.
I saw her, alone, in the Garden:
Standing.
In white.
She was without a sign.
“Why is that?”
“I have given in . . . ” she said.
“Why is that?”
“No one dares to . . . ” she said.
“Humans are like that,” I said.
“Humans—” she said.
“What, now?” I said.
“Give up,” she said.
“Sorry—” I said, and left her.
Alone.
I made my way out of the Garden.

One last time.
I saw her, alone, on the Common:
Standing.
In black.
She was without a sign.
“Why is that?”
“I have given up . . . ” she said.
“Why is that?”
“No one cares to . . . ” she said.
“Humans are like that,” I said.
“Humans—” she said.
“What, now?” I said.
“Give in,” she said.
“Sorry—” I said, and left her.
Alone.
I made my way out of the Common.

In the Garden.
On the Common.
The last time.

Ted Richer

Ted Richer is the literary editor of Free Inquiry.


One last time. I saw her, alone, in the Garden: Standing. In white. She was without a sign. “Why is that?” “I have given in . . . ” she said. “Why is that?” “No one dares to . . . ” she said. “Humans are like that,” I said. “Humans—” she said. “What, now?” …

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