I want to apologize. I’m sorry that I have had to pull you down with me into this antechamber full of cold blood bags. It’s hard to believe such a room exists, that there is really a room where they just put bags of blood. But they stack up and stack up. When I got here, they didn’t cover the door, but they do now. I don’t think anyone ever comes for the blood bags again. No, really. It’s drafty. I’m so sorry.
Hold one of the bags, and feel the blood inside.
This is my mothering instinct talking.
I’m sorry for how this ends, in a chamber that
used to lead somewhere.
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