"What is your condition?"
Asked the man in the black trench coat. He said he was a philosopher. Or a psychologist? The girl could not recall. She doubted it was of great importance.
"Why; condition?" she asked.
Then continued, "I refer to it as a state of mind, sir." she paused briefly. "Most people tell me that I am beyond REpair. I have the tendency to correct them. I am beyond DESpair."
"Pardon me?" he asked her.
Looking through the tops of his spectacles. He seemed confused.
"I am beyond despair." she said,
"You are pardoned, mind you. Those in despair require repair. I am not in requirement of repair. I am, for the most part, in a constant state of bewilderment."
"Due to?" he asked, taking notes on his clipboard.
"The case of homo sapiens." said the girl.
"What about us?" asked he.
"We turn others of our own into victims," she continued,
"Of the source of all our problems."
"And what is that?" the man inquired.
"We have invented a word called: humanity." she replied,
"It is both conceited, and misused. We ask: have you no humanity? But the answer should always be: No. I do not. We allow other to become victims."
"Victims of what?" he was impatient, now.
"The case of Humans without Humanity." she added,
"Ask yourself this: if we have no humanity, yet call ourselves humans, what are we?"
He looked on in shock.
"That will be all, sir." she said. He took his leave.
Now, to those who have read this story, ask yourself:
Have you no humanity? If you do not, what does that make you
Dear, what a pITY.
What a pity that we are humans without humanity.