Ray had just slammed his hand in the door and was swearing up a storm, until I gave him my patented 'shut up or get chopped into small pieces' look. After Ray thought I was out of earshot, he muttered something about my ancestors and that there was no way I could know his pain.

I resisted the urge to turn around and tell Ray exactly what I knew about pain. How much it hurt when I got my claws grafted in. How much it hurts to be thrown off a cliff. How much it hurts to have a dozen machine guns tear into you. Most of all, I resisted the urge to tell him of the deeper pain: outliving many friends and knowing that I would outlive everyone here.

I knew pain better than any of them. Heightened senses also meant a heightened sense of pain. But then again, that's really none of their business. I can't get too close. The closer you get, the more it hurts to lose someone. I have a century's worth of experience to back that up.

I just walk on, and pretend I never heard Ray in the first place. It's better this way. Better to be a loner than to lose everyone again.

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So whaddaya think?