Whenever Someone Apologizes For Existing With "I'm Sorry."

whenever someone apologizes for existing with "I'm sorry."

My response is, "You're not Sorry. You're [name]."

Don't apologize for existing.

Either people need to learn how to tell the difference between an “I’m sorry” that takes direct responsibility and an “I’m sorry” that signifies sympathy, or I’m gonna start responding to unfortunate information with a solemn nod and a “Sympies,” because I am tired of receiving a “Why? It wasn’t your fault” every time I try to vocalize compassion.

Shit-talking with people who are genuinely kind is so fun. It’s like they speak to you in code.

"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.

Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.

"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.

"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”

“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.

“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.

“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”

Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.

“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”

Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"

"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.

"What?"

"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”

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